Beautiful Life
by Poofgoesyourface
Summary: Serial Killers are not all that they seem, and what happens when they get too close for comfort?
1. Chapter 1

**This is my second attempt at a CSI fanfiction (I've been obsessed lately, and this idea's been stewing for a while). I make allusions to some things in this story, and i'll try to explain them at the end of the chapters for those of you who won't get it. Well, enjoy guys and please drop a review if you have something to say. **

**Disclaimer: The usual: I don't own any of the characters that you recognize. **

**Warnings: Some of this will get kinda grahpic, but thats what the ratings for. There are a couple minor spoilers and major spoilers for Grave Danger Part One and Two. **

**A/N: I'm not much of a fan of CSI romance and didn't intentionally put any in this fic, but you can interpret my writing however you like. **

**Chapter 1**

Brass and his team were already there, the lights of the police cars flashing brightly across the front lawn. A sobbing woman and shocked looking man, presumably the parents, were standing outside the caution tape, looking horrified. The neighborhood was a wealthy place: big houses, big lawns, and sometimes, a big backyard. This house was no different than the others around it. It probably had just as many security systems as was typical for such well-to-do people. There was no doubt about it. This guy knew what he was doing.

Nick got out of the car, almost immediately being ambushed by Brass. "Where's Grissom?"

"Good evening to you too, Jim," Nick replied, taking his kit out. Brass raised his eyebrows at him expectantly. "He'll be here soon."

Sara joined them. "What have we got?"

Brass looked at her. "Girl's in her bedroom. Apparently, the parents got home to check on her and she was dead."

Nick looked up at the house. "Is it clear?"

Brass nodded.

"C'mon," Nick grabbed his case and ducked under the tape. "After you," He said, holding the door ajar for Sara.

"Upstairs?" Sara asked an officer, who nodded back at her. They headed for the stairs. "Think it's our serial killer?" Sara asked.

"They would have told us if they saw a similarity between this one and the others." Nick replied, pushing the girl's door open. "Might be, though. She's the right age," He glanced at the teenager lying in her tangle of bloodstained sheets. "I'll photograph?"

Sara nodded, looking disgusted when she saw the corpse. The girl appeared to be about 17 and her hands were tied to either bed post. From what Nick could see, she'd been stabbed somewhere near the stomach. He shook his head and started taking pictures. "Window's open," Sara said.

Nick examined the lock on the window sill. "No sign of forced entry. Not much disturbance. She was probably sleeping when he entered."

"Looks like she put up a fight, though." Sara was bent over the girl, turning over her hands.

"Hey guys," Nick looked up and saw Grissom in the doorway.

"Hey Gris," He answered, going back to his photographing. Behind him, he heard Grissom going about his usual antics at a crime scene. The room was in pristine order, just like all the other cases. There was little sign of struggle, if none. The messiness of the room was probably just due to the fact that it was the bedroom of a teenager, Nick thought. Perhaps a couple things were out of place on the bedside table, but other than that, the room was clean. Nick was willing to bet his life that Sara would find no prints either. They were back to where they started with the other three murders. He wandered over to the bedside table.

There was a lamp, some papers, a cell phone and a book. Nick took pictures, though doubting that they would need them. Out of interest, he turned the book over. He raised his eyebrows and looked back at the girl's body. What a coincidence. But Nick's job had trained him to not believe in coincidences. "Hey Grissom," He said. Grissom looked up from what he was doing. "What would you say our vic died of?" Nick asked.

Grissom looked at him before glancing down at the girl. "Well, we can't know until the autopsy, but… wait." He bent down and examined the girl's middle. "From what it looks like here… the knife would have missed her heart, probably nicking her stomach… death from poisoning by stomach acids?" Grissom looked back up at him. "Why?"

Nick held the book up. "The Da Vinci Code. Our serial killer has a sick sense of humor."

TBC

**Okay, for those of you who haven't read Da Vinci Code, one of the "main" characters dies this way, but you find that out in the beginning so i'm not spoiling it for anyone intending to read that book. **

**Thanks for reading! Tell me what you think... Next chapter will be up sometime soon depending on what my humongous load of homework will allow, but If I get some comments I might be inspired to post sooner (wink wink). **


	2. Chapter 2

**Yay for Chappie two! Okay, all you Snickers fans out there, this is your chapter! Once again, I wrote this with no intentional romance, but I was rereading this chapter, and well... its a little suggestive of a relationship i guess. Kind of a random moment chapter, i wasn't feeling particularly angsty the day I wrote this and in my defense, I say i suppose you could say its one of those "minor details that are someway completely pertinent to the plot" things that directors (Peter Jackson cough cough) do. **

**Anyways... enjoy!**

**Chapter 2**

"Prints?"

"None. Weapon?"

"Nope. Escape vehicle?"

"No such luck. Shoe prints?"

"Nothing. Tire marks?"

"Not one."

"Lets face it: we're stuck." Nick said, turning to Grissom. Sara nodded, finally sitting down.

They were in Grissom's bug-infested office, looking defeated. Nick leaned against the wall, exhausted, while Grissom sat in the chair behind his desk, spinning a pen in his hand and looking thoughtful. "No murderer leaves no trace." He spoke at last. "I'm putting the whole team on this case."

"Just like the last three," Sara said, frustrated. "Dead ends! All of them!"

Nick glanced at her. "How did the other three die again?"

Grissom put the pen down. "The two girls, from loss of blood. The boy, from a stab wound to the heart."

Nick shifted. "All had traces of sexual assault, correct?"

Grissom nodded, sparing a glance for Sara, who'd put her head in her hands. "Go home, guys. You're tired. Warrick, Catherine and Greg can take over for a while."

Sara looked up. "No," She said immediately. "Not until we have him behind bars."

"Where are they?" Asked Nick.

"I just called Greg, and the other two are on their way. Go home and get some rest. We need everyone to be awake and aware for this one." Grissom insisted.

Just then, the door opened, and Warrick walked in, closely followed by Catherine. Warrick looked around at them, before taking the other seat. "Another one?" He asked.

Grissom and Nick nodded. Sara stared at Grissom defiantly. "You guys look exhausted," Warrick said.

"They are," Grissom said. "I've got to have you two and Greg take over for a bit. At least for the rest of tonight."

"No problem," Catherine said. "But I've got to leave in the morning to drop Lindsay off for school."

"I'm not leaving," Sara said, glaring around the room. "We don't have enough people."

"We'll be fine, Sara. You need rest. Tired people make mistakes," Grissom said firmly. "Nick, can you drive her home for me?"

Nick nodded.

Sara did not look convinced, but stood up. She hesitated. "What about Ecklie's team? Can't he put a couple people on our case?"

"Ecklie!" Warrick said. "He'll be laughing at us right now. Day shift doesn't have anything to do with us. We're not their problem."

Sara looked like she was going to say something, but Nick put a hand on her shoulder. She looked around at him, fury in her eyes. "Let's go, Sara."

Grissom and Warrick watched them carefully and Catherine stood, looking a little shocked. "Go on Sara; you won't miss much."

Nick steered her out of Grissom's office, passing Greg in the hall. "Hey," Greg greeted them as he passed.

"Have fun with this one Greg," Nick said. "See you in the morning. Good luck."

Greg looked around at him, a little confused, as he walked into the office and Sara looked back, still fuming. After assuring himself that she wouldn't go marching back to Grissom's office, Nick let go as he opened his locker to get his keys. She stood before her locker, watching him angrily. He wasn't quite sure what to say. Everybody knew that she got a little too personal with the domestic violence cases, or those against women, but consoling her wasn't on his agenda for the night. Grissom was right. He was tired. As much as he wanted to help, he also wanted sleep after pulling a double shift and a half. Sara might be able to bury herself in work without sleep, and on occasion, he could do that too, but it had been a long night.

He heard her punch the locker and exclaim "I can't just leave! We must have missed something! I can't just go home and pretend everything's fine!"

Nick looked over at her wearily. "Sara!" he said, as loud as he could without shouting. She stopped and looked at him, eyes burning. "Calm down! You really do need sleep. Really," He said. "Grissom's right. We can't have tired CSIs working a case as important as this one. If we compromise what evidence we do have, we won't get anywhere." _Not that we are right now,_ he thought. He took a deep breath. "Look, Sara. Everyone's upset. We need sleep."

Morning came all too soon. Nick all but destroyed his alarm clock when it rang just three hours after he'd collapsed in bed. He rolled over and looked blearily at the clock: 7:30. _Damn, I hate my job. _He thought, burying his face in his pillow once more. Less than a moment later, his cell phone rang, and he took it from the bedside table, groaning when he saw the number.

"Stokes…" he said, knowing full well who would answer.

"Hey Nicky, sorry to wake you up, but you don't have to come in right now." Nick tried to stop himself from groaning at the sound of Grissom's voice.

"What now?" He asked.

"Autopsy's going to start in a bit, and we haven't found anything else. Come in later when you've gotten some sleep." Grissom sounded tired himself, but Nick wasn't about to refuse more sleep.

"What about Sara?"

"I already called her." He sounded doubtful. "She'll probably come in anyways.

This made Nick smile. "She can't.

"What?"

"I drove her home, remember?"

"Oh yeah," The other line was silent for a while. "Well, see you later today then."

"You know, you sound like you need sleep more than I do," Nick said, yawning, but Grissom had hung up already. He rolled over, intending to go back to sleep. Seconds later, the phone rang again.

He flipped over and glared at his phone. _Oh, well. I should have expected it…_ he thought. "Stokes…" He answered.

"Nick, take me back now!"

He grinned at the sound of Sara's angry voice. "Whoa there, did you get any sleep at all?"

"No."

"Will you if I refuse?"

"No."

"Sorry, Sara, but three hours in two days is just not enough sleep to work a case…" This was a lie. He'd done it before. They all had.

"Fine, I'll call Grissom!" She said, angrily.

"Have fun getting him out of the office."

"He got _me_ out," Sara said, sounding upset.

"Oh well. He's your supervisor… He has that power," Nick yawned. "I'll pick you up at 5:00. I'm going back to sleep." He hung up before she could say anything.

**Incentive for the reviewers: You'll have made someone happy today. And i might just update a little bit sooner than I was planning to :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay so I figured I should post chapter three. Sorry it took so long... My beta hasn't read it yet, so sorry if theres any errors. Well I think this is about the end of any trace of Snickers in this story, just to let you know. Anyways, enjoy!**

**Chapter 3**

He'd gotten used to seeing corpses. It was part of his job, and the shock most people got of seeing a dead person failed to come. Melissa Harrison was no different. He had to admit, he could see why a murdered child or person this young would unnerve someone, but he'd gotten past that a long time ago. Doc Robbins stood on the other side of the table, looking at the body with something close to pity. "Well, Gil, she's no different than the others. I must say, you have one interesting serial killer."

Grissom didn't say anything. Their serial killer was indeed interesting. He didn't leave any identifying clues, the causes of death were different, and there were no similarities in the victims' backgrounds. He wasn't even quite sure they had a serial killer. The only real connection between the murders was the proximity in time. It seemed his signature, if he even had one, was to put the victim in as much pain as possible before they died. Grissom tried to keep his own feelings out of his cases, but they got away with him sometimes. He wished he didn't have to put Sara or Nick on this case, but it seemed he had no choice. Both were sensitive sometimes. In Nick's case, it was those committed against little boys. Reluctantly, he threw off these thoughts and brought himself back to the autopsy. "He is proving interesting," Grissom managed to say. "Time of death?"

"Approximately 1:30 am."

"Her parents got home at 1:45. Wow, she wasn't dead long." Grissom muttered to himself. "Cause of death?"

"Well, on that, you were right. Poisoning from stomach acids. Nasty way to die." Doc Robbins looked at the body sadly. "You say you found Da Vinci Code by her bed?"

Grissom grunted in reply.

"Have you read it?"

"Who hasn't?" Grissom said. "My job's taught me not to believe in coincidences, and this is definitely not one. What else do we know about her?"

"Not much. She's the typical 17 year old. Well, close to typical. Doesn't drink, doesn't smoke. No traces of drugs in her body."

"Sexual assault?"

Doc Robbins sighed. "Yes. Poor girl. She's so young."

"Did you find any semen?" This was too much to hope for, but there was no harm in asking.

"None, this guy knows how to play."

Grissom sighed. He was expecting it, but it just made his job harder.

Doc Robbins looked down on Melissa Harrison. "Well, I'm pretty sure the murder weapon is a knife. There are multiple contusions on her neck, possible strangulation." He pointed to her neck, where purple bruising was beginning to show. "Quite a few knife wounds on the rest of her body, bruises on her arms where she was tied. It looks just like the other three. Unlike them, though, she had about 15 minutes to spare between the time she was stabbed and the time she died. If there's one thing I'm certain of, it's that I don't ever want to be in the kind of pain she was in before she died."

5:00 found Nick waiting outside Sara's house in his Denali. Almost the moment he pulled up, Sara came walking down the driveway with her kit. She got in immediately and shot him an unhappy look. "Did you get your sleep?" She asked, scowling.

"I did indeed, thank you very much." He replied. Her scowl intensified. "Did you?" He asked.

"I suppose," She said, almost regretfully. For a moment there was silence, and Nick considered turning on the radio. Quite suddenly, she exclaimed "How can you do it? All of you!"

Nick spared her a glance. He knew quite well what she was talking about, but asked nevertheless "Do what?"

"Just sit there! Like nothing's happened! A girl has just been molested, raped, and killed! How can you act so… so… callous!" Nick almost thought he saw tears of frustration.

He sighed inwardly. All of them knew that Sara had a problem with cases like these. However much he did not want to admit it, even he was affected sometimes. He had a way to take his mind off of work though. He had his family, his friends. They were the ones who got him through the aftermath of his own kidnapping. He shook off that thought. "Sara, what do you do outside of work?"

She gave him an exasperated look. "Everyone's talked to me about that before. I'm trying to get out, alright!"

Nick tried not to sigh. "Look, Sara, I know I sound like Grissom, but you need to try harder,"

"We all have our secrets," She said mysteriously. "It's not just me that gets attached to victims."

He glanced at her. "What do you mean?" He said, a little suspiciously. He'd only told Catherine about his little secret, and he doubted very much that she would tell anyone.

She looked away. "Well, the reason I get like this, I suppose is because of… something… personal. It's not just me. All of you have something that makes you feel stronger for different victims. I saw the way you looked at that boy. The second victim of our serial killer."

Nick looked away, slightly alarmed. He'd told Catherine, but frankly, he had no intention of telling anyone else. "He was… is evidence." He said, finally. He didn't want to look at Sara. He didn't want to see her smile of triumph. That was a long time ago. Nobody had the right to remind him of it.

"Nick?"

"We're here." He was glad to see the building, and got out of the car immediately. He didn't want to talk to Sara at the moment. She didn't know anything about his past, and she didn't need to.

She fell into stride next to him, and he forced down bitter feelings. "Nick?" She asked again.

"Do you think they found anything?" He asked.

"No," She said, seeming to get the hint. "They didn't find anything the last three times. Why should this be any different?" It wasn't. That was the problem. Serial killers were caught when they slipped up, and this one hadn't yet.

**Hope you liked it, drop a review if you've got anything to say...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Well guys... here you go w/ chapter 4... theres some more da vinci code discussion in this one (Its not important to the plot very much, and you'll get the gist of things...), if you haven't read it... well, I strongly suggest reading it, its a good book! **

**I didn't get this chapter betaed or edited, so sorry about any and all typos/spelling errors. **

**Enjoy**

**Chapter 4**

Nick and Sara found the team in the break room, looking defeated. Warrick and Catherine were both staring into Styrofoam cups of coffee while Greg lay with his eyes closed on the couch, earphones in. Grissom was the only one standing, looking thoughtful.

"Hey," Warrick greeted them as they walked in.

"Any progress?" Nick asked, taking a seat.

Catherine shook her head. "None,"

Greg opened one eye and took his earphones out. "At least you got sleep," He said.

"Any info from the autopsy?" Sara asked, looking at Grissom.

"Not much," Grissom said. The others looked at him. "Just stuff we already know."

"This case is going nowhere," Catherine said, frustrated.

"He leaves nothing, no prints, no DNA, nothing." Sara concurred.

"Doesn't plant anything either," Greg pointed out.

"Yeah," Warrick got up and threw away his cup. "I'm starting to wish he did. At least it would give us a lead."

"There's so much we don't know," Greg said, yawning.

Grissom was watching them, still looking thoughtful. "Then start with what we do know,"

They all looked at him. "That's not much," Nick said.

"We know that his trademark is to come in through the window, tie them to the bed…" Grissom trailed off.

"Yeah, and then put them in as much pain as he can." Sara's eyes were burning with anger again.

"He doesn't discriminate between boys and girls too…" Nick said, the thought of that boy stirring old memories. He shook them off quickly.

"Are we sure that was our guy?" Catherine asked.

Nick shrugged. "Same signature."

"What signature?" Warrick said, looking slightly incredulous.

"Hey guys," Greg said quite suddenly. "The parents said that they always go out for drinks on Friday nights, and they got back early last night."

Nick thought he knew what Greg was implying. "This girl didn't have as much scarring as the others. The others all died around 4:00 in the morning. She died at 1:30."

Grissom was looking at him. "Something went wrong with this one. There's something different about this. It was almost as if…"

"He chose the night that the parents would be out," Sara said. "And that girl's window locks from the inside. The parents said they don't let her open it at night, but they know she does it when they're out."

"You think our killer stalks them first?" Warrick said, glancing around the room.

"How many people know the parents go out for drinks Friday nights?" Greg asked.

Everyone was silent. "Probably only the people at the bar," Sara said finally. "They said it was a private thing."

"But they don't go to the same bar each night." Greg said. "And how many people would know she opens the window when her parents aren't home?"

"So it's either the parents, or a stalker," Warrick said.

Nick didn't like where this was going. The parents seemed unlikely. Their story was easily verified by the owner of the bar they went to the night before. A stalker seemed more logical. The other victims had also been killed on a night when their parents were not scheduled to be home. As was proved with the others, however, this killer left no trace. Nick thought back to what the parents had said. They got back early. The bar they were at closed unexpectedly when the owners were found with drugs. That's odd. The other victims were kept alive longer. It was almost as if the killer had known the parents were getting back early. Could the parents possibly be in cahoots with their daughter's murderer? It wasn't impossible, but once again, it seemed unlikely. There was definitely something different about this one. This girl had also died differently. So had the boy, but there was nothing else distinguishing about the boy's murder. Perhaps the murderer had enough mercy to end that boy's life fairly quickly. The thing that intrigued Nick, though, was Melissa Harrison's murder. He'd read Da Vinci Code, like the rest of the world. The killer was either taunting him and his team, or Melissa Harrison, or both.

"Grissom's right," he found himself saying, almost whispering. Everybody looked at him, including Grissom. "Something was different about this one. The parents said they got back early. How would our killer have known to kill her early?"

"An accomplice?" Greg asked, raising his eyebrows.

"It's possible," Nick replied. "Also, that girl had about fifteen minutes to kill. She would have known it, too. She was reading Da Vinci Code after all. What would you do if you knew you had fifteen minutes left to do something?"

"You think she might have left something to help us identify her killer?" Sara asked, sounding a little incredulous.

"That would have been hard if he was there. And what if she didn't know who her killer was?" Catherine said.

"She had nothing to lose," Warrick looked surprised.

"People don't think straight when they're in that much pain." Greg said

"Jacques Saniere did," Grissom said quietly.

"This is a seventeen year old girl we're talking about! Not the ingenious curator of the Louvre, or the Grand Master of some secret society!" Catherine exclaimed angrily.

"There's still no harm in going back to the crime scene." Grissom said.

Nobody could think of anything to say to that. Finally, Nick broke the silence. "I'll go," He volunteered.

"And me," Catherine stood up.

Grissom looked at them and nodded. "I'll be over there in a bit. Warrick, Greg, go to the bar they were at last night and ask questions. Any suspicious activity, anybody noticing the parents doing anything strange. Nick's right. They must have had someone watching the parents. Sara, can you go back to Doc Robbins and see if he found anything else. Oh, also, look into the other murders while you're at it, please."

"Will do, boss." Greg stood up and stretched.

The others left and Nick and Catherine were left with Grissom who was shuffling through files. "I'll be there in a bit. You guys go ahead of me. I'll be right over after I take care of something." He said without looking up.

Nick nodded and left with Catherine. "I'll drive?" He offered.

She grinned. "All yours," She said, tossing him her keys.

**TBC... (Reviews make me happy, and happy means i'm feeling nice, and feeling nice means I'll update...)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Yay! I posted Chapter five evil laugh enjoy everybody...**

**Chapter 5**

Everything was quiet, and it was almost 10:00 when they got there. The yellow caution tape was still up, and the other houses were quiet. It could almost be described as calm, though Catherine seriously doubted there was such thing as calm in Las Vegas. "Did anyone talk to the neighbors?" she wondered aloud as she took out her kit.

"I think Sara did." Nick replied. "They said they didn't hear anything."

"So our killer knows how to work quietly also. Great." Catherine grinned at him. "I got upstairs. You can check downstairs."

Nick ducked under the caution tape. "Why do I always get the boring jobs?"

She chuckled. "See you in a bit," She said, as she climbed the stairs to the dark upstairs level. If there was one thing to be said about this house, it was that it was dark, quiet, and big. Lindsey would definitely not like it. To tell the truth, neither did Catherine. Cases like this scared her. They always made her think what she would do if it happened to Lindsey. Her daughter was so young, just like the four victims of this monster. She always chose to avoid talking to the parents of young rape victims. They frightened her. She never wanted to be in the kind of emotional pain they were in. Her daughter was her life, and she would do anything for her.

She pushed open the girl's bedroom door and stepped inside, closing the door behind her, though not quite knowing why she did it. The girl's room was also dark. It was no wonder that the girl did not notice her attacker. On the right wall was the closet, on the left, a big window with thick shades that blocked out any light from the distant Strip or other houses. Catherine surveyed the scene for a moment, not being able to stop herself from thinking that going over this again was pointless. She finally decided to start with the bed. As expected, she didn't find anything, no semen, no fibers, nothing. Sighing, she knelt down and lifted up the bottom of the covers to look under the bed and shone her flashlight around. It looked just like it had looke the first time they processed the scene. The first cursory sweep of her flashlight yeilded nothing, but upon closer inspection of the leg closest to the bedside table, she thought she could make out a small box. Stretching her hand out, she took it and stood up. It was a tape recorder. How could they have missed that? She was quite sure there was nothing there last time, then again, it had looked almost as if it was part of the leg.

Almost apprehensively, she pressed the rewind button. Part of her feared to hear what was on the tape. Was it a suicide note the killer made her do? Or had the killer taped the whole thing to mock them? Or had the girl pressed record without the killer knowing? It clicked, and she pressed play.

A whimper and a scared sounding female voice. "Who are you?" Catherine grimaced in pity for the girl. Her thoughts wandered to Lindsey and she shook her head angrily to get them out. She would never let such a thing happen to Lindsey, but she couldn't help thinking about how she was never home at night.

The killer did not answer the girl's question, but Catherine heard a gasp followed the sound of fabric tearing and a scream that was quickly cut off by a slapping sound. Catherine looked at the cieling, biting her lip to keep images of Lindsey from flashing through her mind.

Suddenly, she felt metal against the back of her neck. "Push stop and put it down," Came an unfamiliar male voice. Catherine was jerked away from her musings, but fear registered slowly. It was only when he pressed harder against the nape of her neck that she complied. Trying to stop herself from shaking, she did the only thing that made sense and set it down on the bedside table before her.

* * *

Nick surveyed the living room, slightly put out. Nothing seemed out of order, Nick noted, eyes scanning the black leather couches and the expensive plasma screen TV. He sighed inwardly, doubting very much that there would be anything interesting here. The killer probably didn't even come into the living room. Most likely, they didn't even go downstairs. But he was not one to question protocol. A little annoyed, he knelt down and shone his flashlight along the couch and underneath. Nothing. The kitchen was next. Once again, he found nothing. 

Yawning, he made his way up the stairs. He'd gotten the sleep he wanted, but that didn't prevent him from being tired. Back in the lab it had seemed a good idea to come back and have another look around, but now he doubted they would find anything. If the other murders were anything to go by, all they would find in the course of thier investigation was the girl's body. He wanted very much to catch the killer, but he was frustrated, along with the rest of the team. Yawning again, he forced away thoughts of dispair and focused on climbing the stairs, automatically listening for anything that might help. It was too quiet in this neighborhood. How could the neighbors not have noticed something? This house was too dark and big. Bad combination. It was also very quiet. There was no bubble of a fish tank, the hum of the refrigerator was muted, and the fans were probably just as silent. Why did he hear voices then?

It was true. He thought he could hear the murmur of voices from the girl's bedroom, and it did not sound like Catherine. He stopped his musings and pressed himself against the hallway wall. There were definitely people speaking in the girl's bedroom. Heart pounding, he drew his gun and listened. He could not make out the words they were saying, but he heard Catherine's voice, and it sounded scared. The door was right next to him, and he inched towards it before leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes for a moment. Going in probably wasn't the best decision, but if they were meaning to kill her, they would have done it already, and he had no idea how long it would take Grissom to get there. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and kicked the door open, swinging around and pointing his gun into the room.

He froze. Catherine stood by the girl's bedside table, a gun to her head and a dark figure standing directly behind her with one hand across her chest. The worst part was when he heard the door close behind him and felt a second gun being put up to his temple. "Drop the gun," The man standing behind Catherine said to him in a threatening hiss.

**TBC... Everyone loves reviews... **


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay, kinda long chapter this time, but you people don't mind... anyways, and this one comes with a warning. If you watch CSI then this warning doesn't really apply to you, but the "violence" begins in this chapter, so beware if you are one that does not like it. **

**Anyways, I love all of my reviewers! You guys make me happy! Anyways, sorry I dind't respond to your reviews like I usually do, I was too lazy, so I'll put a big THANK YOU, in this A/N.**

**Chapter 6**

Gil Grissom parked across the street from the house and looked down at his watch wearily. It was almost 11:00. He'd meant to get there earlier, but one of his tarantulas didn't want to go back in its cage. He smiled inwardly as he got out his kit and waited for a black van to pass before he crossed the street to the house. Wondering if they'd found anything, he ducked under the tape. They must have missed something the last time. Warrick was right. She must have done something to identify her killer. Sure, she might not have been thinking straight, but what would you do if you had fifteen minutes before you died to do something?

The house was dark when he stepped inside. He didn't expect anything else though. They usually left the house how it would have been at the time of the crime, but something didn't feel right. It seemed quiet, unusually quiet. Were they both upstairs? "Nick? Catherine?" He called. There was no answer. They were probably upstairs. It was a big house. They probably just didn't hear him. He briefly wondered at his paranoia, but it made sense. Ever since Nick's kidnapping, the whole team had been paranoid.

He climbed the stairs, taking out his flashlight and shining it before him, sweeping it across the steps. Maybe there was evidence they missed on the steps. This had to be one of the creepiest houses he'd been in. However, perhaps not, he'd seen many things in his life. This house was so quiet, though. The whole neighborhood was quiet. It was unusual for no one to have heard the girl's screams, but not unheard of. He could easily have silenced her. They'd found no bruising around her mouth, so she was not gagged, but there were other ways. There was nothing on the stairs, not that he expected there to be. If there was any missed evidence, it was probably in the bedroom.

He had come to the top of the stairs and shone his flashlight into the hall. Everything was still, and the door to the girl's room was open. It was too quiet, and something was definitely up. What he saw next almost made his heart stop.

There was something dark written on the wall. He stared at the red liquid, horrified. _No… _He thought. _Stokes and Willows were here…no… Not Nick… Not again. _He fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone and dialed speed dial 8. _They aren't dead, They aren't dead, _he chanted to himself firmly while he waited, almost numb with fear for his team.

"Brass…"

"Jim, I need backup right away! Call Sara and get her over here!" Grissom said, trying to keep panic out of his voice.

"Where are you?" Brass sounded concerned.

"The Harrison's, hurry!" he went to the girl's doorway and shone his flashlight in with his free hand. "Nick and Catherine are missing,"

"Point taken, see you in a bit," Grissom barely heard Brass hang up, his phone was already in his pocket.

The room was dark, but Grissom could tell nobody was there. He fought to slow his racing heart and suppress rising panic. He took out his cell and hit speed dial 2. Warrick did not take long to answer. "Warrick," He answered.

"Warrick, I need you and Greg over here right away," Grissom said, keeping his voice as level as possible.

"What's up?" Warrick sounded worried.

"Nick and Catherine are missing," Grissom replied, still surveying the bedroom.

Warrick was silent at first. "Be there in a bit," he finally replied in a rough voice.

_They aren't dead, they aren't dead. This can't be happening, _Grissom thought. _Last time was bad enough; I don't want to have to do this again. _He stared into the bedroom, mind laboring under the pressure of his feelings and fear. The CSI in him told him to start processing, but he wanted time to absorb what had happened. It barely registered in his mind that there might be someone there still. He didn't care though. In a daze, he looked around, pulling on gloves. Nothing seemed disturbed. The room was almost exactly as it was the first time he was there. But wait; there was something on the bedside table that hadn't been there before. He hurried over, dread sinking in slowly. It was a tape recorder. Grissom had seen enough of these in his career, and the sight almost made him sick. Was it a ransom note? Or something worse? He picked it up and turned it over. It was still recording. Odd. Kidnappers usually pressed stop. He turned around sharply and shone his flashlight around the room. It was still empty and the closet was open, also empty. He was getting paranoid. _No, _he corrected himself. He _was _paranoid.

He rewound the tape and pressed play, a little afraid of what he would hear. It sounded like a woman's whimper and a scared female voice asking "Who are you?" Grissom's mind immediately jumped to Catherine, but the voice sounded nothing like her.

There was a gasp, the sound of tearing fabric and a scream that was quickly cut off by a slap. Suddenly, the tape clicked and went silent. A moment later, it clicked again and a strange male voice said. "Very good, now, turn around."

The voice that came next was definitely Catherine. "Someone else is here, and people are coming." She sounded scared.

The man laughed coldly. "Oh we'll take care of your friend, but we'll be out of here long before anyone else can get here."

Grissom heard Catherine gasp and it sounded as if there was a short struggle. The man's voice came again, this time in a frightening hiss. "I advise you not to struggle when there is a gun to your head. Besides, it's in your best interest to cooperate with me. Or, I should say, your daughter's best interest."

"Lindsey…" Catherine whispered, in a fearful voice. "Let her go!" She said in a frantic whisper.

The man laughed. "Oh there's no need to do that. Let's just say if you don't cooperate, I'm not sure how long your house will be there."

_Oh god…_Grissom thought as he dashed out of the room and down the stairs. Brass and his team were there, and he could see Warrick pulling up in his Tahoe. He ignored Brass and went straight to Warrick's window. The man looked concerned and worried. "You know where Catherine's house is right, Warrick?" Grissom asked without preamble.

"Yeah, why?" Warrick asked, looking shaken.

"Go there and get Lindsey. I don't care how; just get her out of there!" Grissom said. He turned and searched the scene for Brass. He didn't have to look far seeing as Jim Brass was standing almost directly behind him. "Jim, send some guys with him. I've reason to believe there's a bomb at her house." He spun back to the car. "Greg, stay here with me,"

Greg nodded and got out of the car. Warrick looked disturbed. "Grissom?" he started.

"No time, just go! Get Lindsey and take her to the office. If she's not there… then…"

"We have another crime scene." Warrick replied as he pulled out of the driveway and drove away, two cop cars following.

Greg looked frightened and not quite sure what to do. "Greg," Grissom said, trying to get his feelings under control. _Why Nick? _He thought. _Hasn't he suffered enough?_ He felt guilty thinking it. Nick wasn't the only one this time, but Grissom knew it would be harder on him than it would be on Catherine. He had memories to deal with. Then again, Catherine had the threat of something happening to her daughter hanging over her. Grissom shoved his thoughts to the back of his mind for the moment. He realized the tape was still playing and stopped it. He wondered how much was on the tape. From what he'd heard, it sounded as if Catherine started it without her kidnapper knowing it.

"Grissom?" Greg said, sounding unsure.

Grissom brought himself back to the present. "Greg, you're all I have right now, you got that? Sara will be here in a bit, but for now, it's up to us to process the house. When she gets here, I'm going to ask you to take a sample of blood back to DNA." He was trying to stay calm, but the thought of that writing made him worry. It was bad news for whoever's it was. Somebody had lost a lot of blood tonight, and Grissom hoped it wasn't Nick or Catherine.

"Blood?" Greg questioned, looking up at the house as they made their way up the driveway.

"We found a message on the wall," Grissom said.

"Written in blood?" Greg asked, looking sick.

"I haven't tested it yet, but I'm pretty sure," Grissom said, hoping he wasn't.

"Are you sure it's human?" Greg asked as they made their way up the stairs to the hallway.

Grissom didn't reply. He seriously hoped it wasn't. He was tempted to cross his fingers as he took as sample and tested it for blood. The Q-tip turned pink. He looked at Greg as he tested it to see if it was human. It was.

They exchanged horrified glances. Finally, Grissom broke the silence. "Greg, can you take the perimeter? I've got the room. Let me know when Sara gets here."

Greg nodded, at loss for words. "Take this sample," Grissom said, taking another Q-tip and swabbing the blood on the wall. "When Sara gets here, take it back to the lab please."

Greg nodded again and left. Grissom watched his retreating back, a little apprehensive. Greg wasn't that new, but he hadn't been in the field for long. Grissom knew how hard it had been on the young CSI to see Nick in that glass coffin. It had been hard on all of them, but Grissom guessed that it would have been hardest on Greg and Warrick. Why couldn't people just leave his CSIs alone?

**TBC... Reviews?**


	7. Chapter 7

**So it took me forever to finish my homework, which is why i dind't get this up sooner, but now its up! So have fun everyone, and thank you to all my reviewers!**

**Chapter 7**

Catherine didn't live far from the Harrisons, and her house looked almost identical. Warrick was fighting to keep panic down. _Nick and Catherine, why them? _He asked himself. Reason said that it was because they were the only two people at the crime scene, but he had a gut feeling that there was something more in this. Nick was his best friend. Last time had been difficult enough, and it had instilled a fear of kidnap in all the CSIs' hearts. Warrick couldn't imagine what Nick was thinking at the moment, or if he was even alive. He stamped down on that thought. _Catherine too, of all people, he had to choose one with a daughter. _Catherine was as good a friend as Nick. All of them were. By now, they were a family and when a family lost one of its own, the family fell apart. It had happened last time with Nick, and now it was happening again. Catherine had a daughter to leave behind also.

Warrick didn't want to get out of the car. He didn't want to go near Catherine's house. He wanted Lindsey to be safe, but he didn't want to have to face her innocent face and tell her that her mother was missing. What was he going to say? What was he going to do? Grissom's statement about the bomb had shaken him, as it had Brass and Greg. He was trying to keep his fear down. He was scared for himself, for Nick, for Catherine, for Lindsey.

He was there, and he leapt out of the car immediately. The police were close behind him. He let them go first and pound on the door. _Please let her be there, please let her be alive,_ he thought. They waited and he considered breaking down the door. There were no other vehicles around, but that didn't mean anything. They could easily be hiding. A thought struck him, and he clung to that idea. It might have been an empty threat. Then again, they might have kidnapped Lindsey also.

But no, he heard footsteps behind the closed door. "Lindsey?" He said loudly.

"Warrick?" Her voice came muted through the door and he heard her unlocking it.

"Lindsey, we have to hurry. Your mom wants us to take you to the lab." Warrick said, saying the first thing that came to his mind.

She looked confused, and stood in the doorway about to say something, but Warrick pulled her away from the house. "What?" She was in her pajamas and looked bewildered and scared. "Why do we have to go there?"

Warrick saw her glance around at the police officers. "We'll explain everything when we get there, alright? We have to get out of here." He said, pulling her towards his car. She stumbled along behind him, looking back at her house once or twice, but he didn't let go until she was safely buckled in. He got in and started driving immediately, praying he wouldn't hear an explosion. Lindsey was saying something, but he wasn't listening. His eyes were fixed on the rear view mirror. The police had followed him out, and he saw one car drive back towards the Harrison's.

"Warrick!" Lindsey exclaimed.

He looked forward, saw a white SUV pulling out of a driveway and slammed on the brakes. It was then that he heard it. Heart pounding wildly, he turned around and saw flames in the direction of Catherine's house. Lindsey's scream of terror was almost muted. He could barely hear over the ringing in his ear. The SUV had stopped and its driver was getting out, looking horrified. "Stay here," He said to Lindsey, before getting out too.

The lady who had climbed out of the SUV ran up to him. He turned and saw the other police car turn around and go back to the burning house. "Oh my god!" The lady said. "I'll call the fire department. Oh my god, did you hear the explosion? Was it a bomb!"

Warrick looked around at her, trying to arrange his thoughts. "Don't worry about it. The police have got it." He said, almost dazed.

She looked past him and saw the retreating flashing lights of the police car and seemed to calm down a little. Warrick took a deep breath to slow his heartbeat. "I'm Warrick Brown with the Las Vegas crime lab." He said, introducing himself. He had to get Lindsey back to the lab, but perhaps this lady saw something.

The lady looked at him bewildered. "Alice Golden," She said.

"Did you see anybody drive by earlier?" Warrick asked, trying to focus on their conversation. "Notice anything unusual?"

She shook her head, glancing past Warrick at the fire and looking distressed. "I was asleep. My son called me and asked me to come pick him up from a friend's." She said. "He said they were drinking and he wasn't comfortable around them."

Warrick tried not to sigh in disappointment. "You didn't see anything?"

"No," She replied. "I just woke up ten minutes ago." She did look tired and dishelved.

Warrick ran a hand through his hair, glancing back at the car where he could see Lindsey waiting in the front seat. Distractedly, he said. "I have to go. There's not much you can do about this. If you remember seeing anything suspicious, contact us please." She nodded and he hurried back to the car.

Lindsey looked terrified. "What's going on? Was that a bomb!" She was distracted and twisted around in her seat trying to look back.

Warrick looked at her, alarmed. What was he supposed to say? She looked so scared. He wasn't good with kids, but he leaned over and gave her a hug, trying to be comforting despite his own fear. "Lindsey, I'm going to take you back to work with me, alright?" He managed to say. He had enough sense to not answer her first question. Gently, he pulled away from her and started the car.

At the lab, he helped Lindsey out of the car. She looked distracted and confused. He didn't expect anything else. What would he do with her now? He couldn't leave her there alone, but he had to get back to the scene. She kept glancing back as if she thought she could see the house from there as they walked back to the lab. Perhaps he could put her to sleep in Catherine's office or something. "Warrick?" he looked at her. "Where's my mom?" She asked in a tone that clearly said she was trying desperately to stay calm.

He hesitated. Of course she wanted to know, but how could he tell her. He looked up at where he was going. They were just outside of Grissom's office. Why couldn't Grissom be there? He'd know what to do. "We're working on that," He said, finally. What now? He thought. What was he supposed to do? She was opening her mouth to say something, and he looked away hurriedly.

To his relief, he saw a familiar blonde lady walking further up the hallway. "Sofia!" he called out. She turned and he saw her eyes flick from him to Lindsey and back to him. He ran to catch up with her.

"Is that Lindsey?" She said, looking at her and smiling. "Hey Linds," She said, before looking back up at Warrick with a questioning look.

"Could you watch her for me?" Warrick asked in an undertone.

Sofia looked at him for a moment before looking back at Lindsey. "Hey Lindsey," She said. "Why don't you go lay down in your mom's office, she'll be back soon." They both could tell Lindsey wasn't buying any of it, but didn't say anything.

Lindsey looked up at Warrick. He saw the first sign of a tear and, slightly regretfully, nodded at her. "Go on. Get some sleep." He could think of nothing else to say.

Sofia walked her back up the hallway to her office and he saw Sofia turn around and mouth "Wait for me,"

He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment. What a night. Why couldn't people just leave them alone? He opened his eyes again. _Nick and Catherine, why! _

His thoughts were interrupted by Sofia's return. "What's going on?" She demanded.

He looked at her, suddenly exhausted. "Nick and Catherine are missing." He said. "They planted a bomb at Catherine's house."

Sofia was silent for a moment. "How did you know it was there?"

"Beats me, Grissom told me to go get Lindsey." Warrick said wearily. "Look, I have to go."

Sofia nodded.

"Keep an eye on her for me?"

Sofia nodded again. "If you guys need any help, I'm here," She said.

He thanked her gratefully and hurried out to his car.

**TBC...**


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay once again, sorry for not sending replies to all my wonderful reviewers, but i've homework-swamped the past couple days... So big thank you: THANK YOU! Alright, enjoy chappie 8... (There'll be some Nick, Catherine action in the next one, i promise you!) **

Chapter 8

"We're missing something Gris,"

Grissom didn't look. He didn't really hear her talking. Their investigation was giving them just as much information as the last few had given. The kidnappers, presumably the serial killer also had left no clues whatsoever. There was no sign of disturbance in the room, so either Nick or Catherine had not struggled, or they had and the kidnappers cleaned up after themselves. He couldn't bring himself to listen to the rest of the tape although he knew it might yield more evidence. They could hear it later in the lab. He'd dusted it for prints and found little. There were a few, and he ran them through AFIS on the laptop. They came back as belonging to Melissa Harrison. He vaguely wondered why Catherine's prints weren't on it then he remembered that she would have been wearing gloves. They'd found no traces of blood anywhere and Grissom wasn't about to get his hopes up that they would. They'd have to wait for the results from the lab until they would know whose blood it was. He'd sent Greg along shortly after Sara had gotten there and had not heard back from him yet. He didn't really expect to. Greg would come back on his own time, maybe with results, maybe Hodges would call him. It was Warrick that he was really worried about. Warrick and Lindsey. He hoped she was alright. He hoped that she was still there and that the kidnappers had not made good on their threat and if they did that Warrick had already gotten her out.

Sara was speaking, but he was still not listening. His thoughts were elsewhere. "There's no blood splatter," he muttered.

"That's what I just said."

He looked up at her as if he just realized she was there. "No blood splatter. How strange. Someone would have to have a big wound to lose that much blood."

"So he brought the blood with him?" Sara said, looking bewildered.

"Or he cleaned up after himself."

"We didn't find anything though. No traces." Grissom looked down at the floor thoughtfully. It was true. There were no traces of blood anywhere in the room or the hallway.

"A wound that big would definitely leave traces somewhere. You'd have to have a pretty big wound to lose that much blood." Sara said.

"Or many small ones," Grissom said, the thought striking him suddenly.

Sara looked surprised. "He'd have to be pretty clean about it though."

"He's already proven to us that he's capable of that." Grissom said.

"And he likes to torture his victims." Sara said. She looked disgusted. Grissom had to say he agreed with her expression.

He'd seen murderers with more disturbing fantasies, but the thought of one of his CSIs being the victim of such a fantasy made him feel sick. He was sure the blood belonged to either Nick or Catherine. His job had taught him to not be sure of anything, but it was very unlikely that the blood belonged to anyone else.

"Gris?"

Grissom looked up and saw Greg in the doorway.

"I took the sample to DNA. Hodges is working on it. He said he'll call you when he has results." Greg looked from Grissom to Sara. "Find anything?"

They both shook their heads at him. "We didn't find anything, but that's what we think is interesting." Grissom said.

Greg shot him a questioning look.

"There's no blood splatter." Grissom clarified.

Greg looked surprised. "Nothing?" He asked. Grissom shook his head. "Not even a blood trail?"

"Nothing," Grissom said. "We haven't checked outside the hall and the room though. You want to do that for us?"

"Sure," Greg replied, tossing Sara her keys to her Tahoe.

"Check outside first. If the kidnapper didn't let any blood spill in the hall and room, he was probably just as careful with the rest of the house. He might have forgotten about outside though." Grissom said.

Greg nodded and left. Grissom watched him go, a little worried. He knew Greg was trying to hide his worry. They all were. Grissom especially. He believed that if he showed fear, they would fall apart. Perhaps he was wrong, but at times, he felt as if the team looked to him for stability and sanity. He was able to hide his own feelings about a case and perhaps the others admired that in him and found comfort in his detachment from emotion. Something inside him told him this was ridiculous, but his absence of emotion had become such a part of him that it was hard to change, so he made up his own excuses for a behavior which he knew would get him in trouble one day. He sat back on his heels and surveyed the room, a little put out. The thing he wanted most at the time was to find Nick and Catherine, but they weren't getting anywhere. He knew the tape would reveal more, but it was for the whole team to hear together. _Part of the team, _he reminded himself.

Just then, his cell phone rang. He saw Sara jump out of the corner of his eye, and he answered it quickly. "Grissom…" he said.

"Gris, its Hodges." Grissom knew this already. He just wanted to know whose blood it was. "That blood sample that Greg brought over. It's Nick's… all of it."

**TBC...**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you to all my reviewers! **

**Chapter 9**

He woke, groggy. Everything was blurred, and it was dark. He couldn't quite bring anything into focus, but he felt something like a wall pressed against his back, and the ground was shaking. _An earthquake? _He thought, trying to clear his mind to think. His hands were behind him. _How strange. _He tried to pull them apart and felt something cut into his wrists. The back of his shirt was wet, and there was a coppery smell in the air.

Everything clicked, and his eyesight cleared. It was dark, very dark, save for the small bursts of light coming from a window somewhere above him. The walls were dangerously close, and the whole place was moving. In front of him, very close, was the shape of another person.

This place was too small, way too small. He fought down panic as the walls seemed to close in around him. It was getting hard to breathe and he tried to inhale, but his breath stuck in his throat. He was back in that plexiglass coffin, and he could almost see the dirt above him. The hum of the car's engine became the whir of the fan, and the flashing street lights became a bright yellow light that filled the whole box. Twisting, he tried to find room, but felt the cold glass against his skin. He couldn't breathe, and he started to shiver despite the fact that he was sweat soaked. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on breathing, but it wasn't working. He started to get dizzy, and panic set in. Body shaking, he tried to avoid crying out. His lungs weren't working, and although he was gasping for air, he could feel himself falling weak and helpless.

"Nick!"

Catherine's urgent whisper cut through his panic, and he breathed in surprise. Air filled his lungs and he willed Catherine to speak again to give him something to cling to. "Nick! Breathe! Come on, Nicky, Breathe!" She said. He opened his eyes and saw hers, scared and concerned. He breathed. The walls were still close, but the plexiglass coffin was gone, and he focused on her face to keep it that way.

"Cath…" He managed to gasp out.

"Nicky," Her voice was shaking. "Stay with me here."

He nodded, trying to keep tears out of his eyes and trying to control his breathing at the same time. "Where are we?" his voice was weak, but steady. He tried to shift himself, and a stinging pain shot through his body. It was then that he remembered his back was soaked in blood. Memories of the past night flooded his mind, and the pain intensified. When the wet cloth of his shirt would touch the many little cuts on his back, it would send another wave of pain through his body. Catherine was answering him, but he didn't hear her. His eyes were starting to water, and he tried to shift again so that his shirt wouldn't chafe against his wounds. A gasp of pain escaped his lips, and Catherine looked at him with renewed concern.

"Nick, are you okay?" She asked.

"I'm fine," he said. The pain was making him dizzy. "Won't they hear us talking?" He asked, before realizing that the wall against his back was probably a partion. They must be in some sort of utility vehicle.

Catherine confirmed his suspicion. Nick closed his eyes to stop them from watering, and could feel the walls shrinking again. He quickly opened them again. Catherine looked worried, but the thing that took Nick by surprise were the tears shining in her eyes. "Cath?" He asked in a whisper. She didn't answer at first, and he tried to remember the details of their conversation with the kidnappers. It didn't work, the memories escaped him. His mind wasn't working quite well at the moment.

He could see her shake her head. "Lindsey…" She said, voice quavering.

Nick remembered. The kidnappers had threatened Lindsey. He didn't know what to say. Their conversation was keeping panic at bay, but only just. He couldn't even fathom what was going through Catherine's head at the moment. The mother in her would be frightened out of its wits. "Cath? They'll find her. Gris and the others. The first place they'll go is your house." He said.

She looked up suddenly, eyes lighting up. "Nick…" He gave her a quizzical look and grimaced as the car shook and his shirt chafed his wounds. "Nick!" She said in a feverish whisper. "I taped the whole thing! They didn't find it, did they?"

"What?"

"The girl. Melissa Harrison! She got her murder on tape. I found a recorder near her bed. I pressed record when the guy came in!" Catherine's tears were gone, and her voice was less shaky.

Nick didn't know if he could believe his ears. "Did they find it?" He asked.

"No, they were too busy restraining you." She replied. "I think he forgot about it when you walked in."

The car shook again, and Nick tried not to cry out. This was insane. The fact that Catherine had recorded their whole conversation was good news, but he felt so helpless. If there was one thing they knew about this guy, it was that he left no traces. Nick doubted very much that any of them would send even a ransom note into the office. Last time he'd been kidnapped, the team had at least a webcam signal to trace. It was unlikely that their current kidnappers would do anything similar. They would have learned from their mistake. He was supposed to die the last time, and he hadn't. This thought brought a chill to him. He was going to die this time. He was sure of it, these guys didn't leave any loose ends, and Nick was one of them. He shook involuntarily, eliciting another concerned look from Catherine. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself enough to analyze the situation. From the feel of his restraints, his hands were bound by zip ties. It was probably the same story for Catherine, and it was an effective one. Without his hands, he couldn't do anything. As far as he could tell, his ankles were free. It was no use though. There was nothing he could do, even with his legs free. He was helpless, and he hated that feeling. Last time, it wasn't that he was stuck in a plexiglass coffin with no sign of escape that frightened him; it was the fact that there was nothing he could do about it. The knowledge that his life was in the hands of another was the truly scary part. The pain did not help either. It fogged his thinking and blurred his thoughts. He tried shifting again to move the cloth away from his skin. _Wait, what's this?_ He thought. Indeed, he did feel something in his back pocket. Could it be? Were these killers losing their touch? "Cath," He whispered, even quieter. It was essential that the kidnappers not know they were awake.

She looked up at him. "What's wrong?"

He made a shushing sound before lowering his voice even more and asking. "Do you know what they used to drug us? All I remember is them putting a white cloth across my face."

She gave him a strange look. "Probably ether. That's what the Gordon guy used. Why?"

Nick suppressed a shudder at the mention of the name. "My cell's still in my back pocket. But if they know we're awake and they're coming back to drug us again, then we shouldn't bother because they'll find it."

Her eyes lit up. "I don't think they know. It's now or never, Nicky."

He looked at her, the thought of moving was intimidating. It hurt enough just laying there. "I can't reach it. If I flip over, do you think you could get it?"

"I have to try." He heard her reply as he steeled himself to turn over. "Be careful to do it quietly. It's over if these guys hear, and I don't know how much time we have."

Nick nodded and maneuvered himself painfully so that his back was facing Catherine. He could hear her moving too, and a moment later, feel her reaching for his phone. Without something to focus on aside from the pain, he could feel the walls begin to shrink again. He had to talk to distract himself. "Did they hurt you too?" he choked out.

"No, but my arms hurt like hell. They've fallen asleep." Her voice was slightly muffled, and he completely agreed with her. His arms hurt also, and he could feel blood on his hands from straining against the zip ties. His arms were numb though, and he was grateful, for he could not fear the zip ties cutting into his wrists, only a prickly feeling as the blood ran down his palms. "Who's on your speed dial?" He heard her ask.

The back of the car lit up from his phone display, and went black a moment later as Catherine covered the screen. Nick tried to clear his memory to remember. "Gris is number one, 'Rick's on two. Don't press four."

"Why?"

"Because that's you, and they probably have your cell." He answered. "Put it on speaker."

He heard his phone dialing, and grimacing, turned himself over again so that he could hear better. Catherine had also turned over and was waiting intently. One ring… Nick gasped, his wounds were stinging. Anther ring… He forced himself to think about the phone instead of his back. Another ring that was quickly cut off as the person on the other line answered. "Hello?" It was Grissom's voice, and it sounded cautious. That was to be expected though.

"Gris…" Nick said, trying to keep a quaver out of his voice.

"Nick, where the hell are you?" Grissom exclaimed, but he did not sound angry. On the contrary, to Nick's surprise, he thought he heard fear in Grissom's voice.

"I don't know, aren't you tracing this?" Nick replied.

"Of course… Is Catherine with you?"

Catherine didn't wait for Nick to answer for her. "Grissom… Lindsey, she…" Nick heard a definite quiver in her voice.

"She's safe." Grissom said, but something in his voice made Nick wonder. "Warrick went and got her. She's fine. We got her out."

"Out?" Catherine sounded terrified. "Gris, what happened?"

"No time for that," Grissom replied, but Nick knew he was making up excuses. "Cath, Nick, do you have any idea where you are?"

"Back of a car, more like a utility van." Nick replied.

"How are you calling me?" Grissom once again sounded cautious. It wasn't rare for a kidnapper to hold a gun to their captive's head and have them call a loved one before they died.

"They left my phone in my pocket for some reason." Nick replied. Short answers were about all he had energy for. He was starting to feel dizzy. He'd probably lost too much blood.

"Do you know what kind of van it is?" Grissom asked. "We're at the lab right now, and if you have any idea, tell us, because we can see if any are registered to anyone in Las Vegas."

Catherine still looked horrified, but she glanced at Nick and saw that he was weak. "We were drugged. We just woke up in here, no idea how we got here. Did you listen to that tape yet? Did you even find it?"

"We found it." Grissom sounded concerned. "That's how we knew to get Lindsey, but we haven't listened to the whole thing yet. Haven't had time. Listen, is Nick alright? We know the blood on the wall is his."

"I'm fine," Nick replied, but flinched. His voice was terribly shaky and soft. He wondered vaguely why he had answered that way in the first place.

"Don't push yourself, Nicky. You've lost too much blood already." Grissom's answer came. Nick already knew this, but it scared him, coming from Grissom. When he didn't get a reply, Grissom continued speaking. "Did you get any identification on your captors? Did they mention anything distinguishing?"

Nick closed his eyes. Catherine could answer Grissom's questions. This time, the back of the car actually didn't shrink, and he could still think somewhat clearly. He knew he was one the verge of unconsciousness though. His thoughts were getting fuzzy, and he knew it was not from any drug they could have given him. The constant sting was lessening, and his grip on the world was slipping. Was it him, or was the car slowing? Catherine and Grissom's voices were unidentifiable murmurs. The movement of the car got rough and came to a stop all together, but the pain in his back was not so intense. There was a bright white light. The moon, possibly? He didn't know. Something that sounded like a male voice and a woman's scream. A moment later, he was flying and he fell hard on gravel.

His fall jerked him out of his stupor. The pain returned, many times intensified as the result of the little rocks pressing themselves against his back. There was no way he could stop it, tears found their way out of his eyes. A foot came in view and he curled in on himself, trying to clutch his stomach, but only succeeding in making the cuts on his wrists deeper. A cell phone dropped into view, and the next moment, a heel crushing it. He closed his eyes and felt himself being dragged upwards and a wet cloth pressed against his face. He struggled, and tried to hold his breath, but got dizzy again and inhaled. Everything went black.

**TBC...**

**A/N: I don't know much about cell phones as I don't have one, so sorry if it seemed a little unrealistic...**


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry for the delay guys... I've been away from my computer... and working on halloween costumes and what not. anyways, enjoy...**

**Reviewers: You guys are awesome! No seriously, your reviews keep me nice and happy!**

**Chapter 10**

Grissom shut his phone, troubled and looked around at the others. What he had heard in the end was not encouraging. The cell phone had not picked up much, but what it did definitely scared him. He'd heard the distant sound of a door opening, Catherine screaming, a pained yell, a grating thump, heavy breathing, and a crunching sound before he'd lost the signal. He looked around at the team who were gathered around him.

Greg's boyish grin and light expression had long since disappeared, and to Grissom, he simply looked lost. He couldn't see Sara properly, for she was looking away, and Grissom thought her cheeks were wet. Warrick looked pissed, really pissed. Grissom had put the phone on speaker when the rest of the team had come in so that they could hear.

"That bastard!" Warrick said in a strangled whisper. "That mother-fucking bastard!" He spun around and punched the cabinet behind him.

"Warrick," Grissom said warningly. "That's not going to help our investigation at all." The younger man did not turn around.

Greg and Sara were both watching them, Greg looking slightly shocked, and Sara giving the room a death stare. Somehow, Grissom managed to speak. "Let's go see what Archie's got." He left the room, not bothering to see if they followed him. They were right. He was not good with people. He could understand what Warrick was feeling at the moment, but not his reaction. Grissom had trained himself to keep such outbursts inside himself. Most of the time, Warrick was the same, but as with last time, he'd lost his cool.

Archie was waiting for them when they got there. He, like the others, looked worried. Grissom finally turned around and saw Warrick, Greg and Sara behind him. Wordlessly, Archie pointed to his computer screen. Grissom looked at the little red dot. It was on a road somewhere north of where they were, and looked as if it was winding through countryside. "That's where you lost the signal," Archie said quietly.

Grissom shook his head and settled down against the table behind Archie. At least it gave them somewhere to start. "Do you think that's where they are?" Warrick asked. He sounded a little apologetic.

"No," Said Grissom.

Greg was staring at the computer screen. "He probably heard them talking and pulled over." Grissom nodded in agreement.

"At least we have a lead." Sara said.

"Let's listen to the tape before we go out there." Grissom said. "It might tell us something more."

The other three nodded and Archie pressed play on the computer. "I tried to make it clearer, but there wasn't much I could do." He said before turning the volume up. "It's not that bad though. Melissa Harrison was a wealthy person, she had expensive toys."

Grissom knew what was on the beginning of the tape, but there was no harm in listening to it again. There was a gasp, and the female voice saying "Who are you?"

Archie paused it and looked back at the four CSI's. "That's not Catherine…" Greg said slowly.

Grissom shook his head. "Catherine told me that Melissa Harrison got her murder on tape and Catherine pressed record when her kidnapper came in."

Greg and Warrick both raised they're eyebrows. "They didn't find the tape?" Warrick asked, sounding incredulous.

"Apparently not," Sara said, also sounding surprised.

"Ready?" Archie asked. They nodded at him and he pressed the play button again.

Grissom heard the gasp, tearing fabric, scream and slap and waited. The tape clicked and started again. The male voice came again. "Very good, now turn around." Grissom looked around at the team. They exchanged quick glances before turning back to Archie and the computer.

Catherine's voice came. "Someone else is here, and people are coming." Grissom noted the fear in her voice once again, and he could tell the others did as well.

"Oh, we'll take care of your friend, but we'll be gone long before anyone else can get here." The same male voice said.

They heard Catherine gasp and the sounds of a short struggle. The man's voice came again, this time in a chilling hiss. "I advise you not to struggle when there is a gun to your head. Besides, it's in your best interest to cooperate with me. Or, I should say, your daughter's best interest."

"Lindsey…" Catherine fearful voice came. "Let her go!" She said in a whisper.

The man laughed. "Oh there's no need to do that. Let's just say if you don't cooperate, I'm not sure how long your house will be there."

Warrick looked over at Grissom, horrified. Grissom didn't know what to say to him, so he settled for listening to the tape. Catherine didn't say anything for a moment, and her captor laughed. "Well well well, what's this? Are we learning? I do hope so. It might keep you and Stokes alive longer."

"How do you know who else is here?" The team could hear the unhappy surprise in Catherine's voice.

"I have my ways," Said the man. "Oh listen, here he comes. Don't even think about calling out. You wouldn't want this bullet in your head."

The sound of a door being thrown open came and the team looked at each other. The sound that came next was even more confusing. They heard the door closing again and the sound of a safety lock on a gun. "Drop the gun," Archie stopped the tape.

"That's not Nick," Archie said.

Grissom shook his head. "No, it's not, but how…" he trailed off.

"There's another person there," Sara said. "The kidnapper always said 'we', he never said 'I'"

Grissom shook his head in disbelief, wondering what they were dealing with. "Go on, Archie. Let's see what else Catherine got on tape."

Archie complied, and they heard the sound of a gun dropping, presumably Nick's. "People are coming," he said immediately.

The man's voice came again. "Thanks, but we already know that thanks to Catherine here."

They heard Catherine gasp. Grissom was also surprised. How would they have known her name? Their captors ignored her. A different male voice came, and Grissom assumed it was the man who had Nick at gunpoint. "So, Nick, is it?" Grissom hated the mock in his voice. "Answer me!" The new man's voice came again.

"Yes," Nick replied. Grissom could hear a suppressed quiver in his voice. "Who are you?" Nick asked.

"You aren't in much of a position to be asking questions." The second man's voice said. "Frankly, you messed up our ingenious plan. You weren't supposed to live."

"You were behind that!" Catherine's voice sounded angry, rather than scared.

Her captor laughed. "Indirectly."

"How much do you know about us?" This was Nick.

"Everything," One of the men answered. The two kidnappers laughed. Grissom could feel unusual hate boiling inside him. "So tell me, did Sanders ever get his promotion to CSI?"

Silence. Everyone looked at Greg, who looked unnerved. "Answer me, Nick!" It was the same voice of Nick's captor.

Nick's answer was weak. "Yes."

The kidnappers laughed again. "Well, he's next. I wonder what the sight of your dead bodies will do to him."

Everyone looked at Greg, alarmed. He stared back at them, looking horrified. "Oh don't worry, we're not going to kill you yet," Came the voice of Catherine's captor. "We might get some money off of you. We'll let you know how it turns out."

Grissom hated the mocking tone of the kidnappers. Hadn't they played with them enough? Inside, he knew the more they talked, the longer Nick and Catherine had to live and the more they knew about the kidnappers, but this was not getting them anywhere.

"We'll leave them a little message, shall we?" The voice of Catherine's captor now sounded business like. "Just tie up a few loose ends, and we're out of here."

Everything recorded after that was too distant to hear. The tape fell silent, but they could tell it was still recording. About five minutes later, Grissom's voice filled the lab. "Jim! I need backup right away! Call Sara and get her over here!"

Grissom sighed. "Okay Archie, stop it. That's me when I got there."

Archie nodded and pressed stop. "You think this guy's a stalker?" He asked, looking around at them.

"Apparently they know everything about us," Greg said. Archie glanced at him. Greg looked distracted and angry. It was probably the first time Grissom had seen him like that. He had no idea how to deal with this new Greg.

"So, what do we do now?" Sara asked. Her cheeks were definitely wet, but she was trying to hide it and failing.

"They said they're going to hold them for ransom, so we have a little time." Warrick said.

"No…" Grissom whispered. "We have to find them, and quickly."

The others stared at him. Was it the first time they'd heard fear in his voice? They stared at him blankly. Greg was the first to catch on. His eyes widened. "Shit!" He cursed suddenly. The others looked at him. "Where do we start!"

"What?" Warrick looked between Grissom and Greg.

"We've heard their voices." Greg said. Warrick still looked lost, but Sara gasped.

"God, Archie! Play the end of Grissom's conversation with them." Archie spun back to his computer and fast forwarded through the recording to the end.

Greg turned to Warrick and explained quickly. "We know they're alive now, the kidnappers have no incentive to keep them alive. If they were meaning to send us a ransom note, they would have sent proof that Nick and Catherine were alive. Now we have that proof, and the kidnappers have no reason not to kill them. They could already be dead!"

This seemed to strike Warrick as Greg was explaining it. Archie was playing the last of Grissom's phone conversation with them. There was the sound of a door opening, which was probably the back of the car. Then a scream, which Grissom guessed was Catherine's. The yell after that was probably Nick's and Grissom could make nothing of the grating thump or the heavy breathing, but the crunching sound was most likely the cell phone being crushed, which was what Grissom presumed had happened. The recording stopped and everyone looked at each other.

Warrick was the first to speak and Grissom could tell he was trying to stay calm. "Well the scream would have been Catherine, and the yell was probably Nick. The rest is kind of muffled until the breathing and the crunch sound."

Grissom nodded. That sounded about right, but there was something about the scream and the yell that seemed inconsistent. "Archie, play Catherine's scream again."

He did so and Grissom looked over at the others. "Did you hear that? It sounded like it was receding."

Greg nodded, staring straight ahead as if thinking. "Her voice is close to the phone at first, and then far away. Was she thrown out of the car?"

Sara looked up, something close to realization dawning on her face. "Play Nick's for me,"

She listened intently. "He sounds far away," she said. The others nodded. "Did you hear that sound right before his yell? Play it again, Archie."

Grissom heard it this time. A small crunch. "That sounds like gravel. Like they landed on gravel."

Archie replayed Catherine's scream, and they heard the crunch again. Warrick looked thoughtful. "Why was Nick's yell delayed? He didn't do anything till after he hit the ground."

Grissom wondered at that too then remembered how Nick had fallen silent near the end of their conversation. "He was asleep, or something. He wasn't speaking much at the end of our conversation. I'm thinking he was starting to pass out from blood loss."

Warrick nodded. "And that thump sound?"

Archie played it again. They were silent for a moment before Sara said. "The grate was probably the gravel. It sounded like something sliding on gravel. But what about that impact sound?"

Grissom looked at the ground. What would make something slide? He looked around at the others and shrugged finally. They looked at him with bland faces. Normally, he could tell what a person was thinking, but not now.

"And the breathing?" Sara questioned.

They were silent for a moment. Was it the kidnappers, or one of the CSIs? "The sound after that…" Greg started. "Can you play it for us Archie?"

Archie played it again. "That's a cell phone being crushed." Greg said. "You lost the signal right afterwards. He probably crushed it with his heel or something. But what was the breathing?"

"We know he likes to… taunt his victims." Sara said slowly. "He might have dropped it in front of someone and stepped on it."

They all nodded but something was bothering Grissom. They had evidence, and plenty of it, but it wasn't getting them anywhere. The only thing more that they had was a location. The tape hadn't done much for them. All it told them was to keep an eye out for Greg and that Lindsey was in danger. The phone call had yielded little also. Grissom was almost positive that Nick and Catherine were not where they had lost the signal, and about all he'd learned from the phone call was that Nick was hurt and Catherine was scared. None of it was helpful. Looking up all the utility vehicles registered in Las Vegas wouldn't help either. There were too many. The only lead they had was the deserted mountain road that they'd lost the signal on.

"So let's head out to where the signal was lost." Warrick said.

Grissom nodded. "Sara, call Brass. We're better safe than sorry. Warrick, we'll take your Tahoe." The two of them nodded and left before Grissom turned to Archie. "Archie, could we get directions?"

He nodded and typed in a command. He looked back at Grissom and Greg. "Good luck, guys. Anything else you need, call me." He said.

**TBC...**


	11. Chapter 11

**Kinda short chapter this time (I think), sorry 'bout that guys, its just the way I write... Anyways, I'm not really sure what the significance of this chapter is, I just decided to write it... Enjoy...**

**Chapter 11**

The first thing she knew was the throbbing pain in her head where she'd fell. Catherine was awake, but didn't open her eyes. She was too weary, and the thought struck her that people were probably watching her. She didn't want them to know she was awake, and to give herself something to do, she settled to evaluate her physical situation. The wound on her head hurt, and she could tell it was bleeding, but she was still much better off than Nick. Her arms and hands had fallen asleep, and her body was weak. She was not that injured, but she was exhausted. Catherine kept her eyes closed and listened, hoping to hear something or someone move. She didn't. Perhaps she was alone.

Warily, she opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Nick's face. He was still out, and his shirt was torn near the stomach. She could see a bruise forming, and she flinched in sympathetic pain. She looked around, and from her vantage on the floor she could tell they were not alone. There was a man dressed all in black standing near them. He was wearing a mask, so Catherine could not make out any of his features, but what bothered her was the gun he was holding. It was not a typical gun, or rifle. It was a sniper gun, and it was now pointing at her. She could tell there was a mocking grin on his face.

"Awake now, aren't we?" He said in a nasally voice. She didn't reply, glad she was wearing jeans and that they were still securely on. He laughed. "Don't worry; I won't do anything to you. At least not until the boss gets back." She tried to keep fear out of her expression and succeeded. She'd seen enough of these people in her dancing days. "I think he's going to have a little chat with you two." He looked down at Nick. "Well, maybe just you. This guy doesn't seem in very good shape right now." He nudged Nick with his toe.

Anger burned suddenly in Catherine's mind. "Leave him alone!" She said.

He laughed again. "Well Catherine, I'm surprised. I thought you were in love with your boss."

She hated his mocking nasal voice with a new passion. She had no romantic feelings for Grissom, but it dawned on her that these men were stalking them. The memory of Nick's stalker came to mind and she shuddered involuntarily. "I'm not in love with anyone." She said, almost vehemently.

"Oh? Then you won't mind if I shoot him?" The man pressed his gun against Nick's neck threateningly.

"No!" She said, alarmed.

The man sighed and pointed the gun at her again. "Well I guess I should stop distracting you. Have a look around." He said, motioning to the room.

Her eyes were still on Nick, but looked up in surprise when she heard him. Her heart started pounding. What was he talking about? Confused, she looked around and suppressed a gasp of horror. There were still bloodstains on the floor, and behind the man with the gun, she could see charred wood. Behind her, she knew there would be a hole where a plexiglass coffin once lay. They were in the warehouse where Gordon had blown himself up.

"Look familiar?" The man asked.

She looked up at him, horrified. What was this all about? Were they really behind Nick's kidnapping and were they doing this to finish him off? It sounded as if they were targeting all of the CSIs, but why? Gordon had done it for revenge, but now she doubted it. It seemed he had only been used. Had someone else played off his anger and used him for a larger scheme? It was possible that the people using him had forced him to commit suicide. This was getting more complicated than she imagined. When they'd rescued Nick, she was hoping beyond hope that it was the end. It seemed it wasn't.

A groan brought her back from her musings, and she looked at Nick. He was waking. "Nicky?" she asked in a soft voice. She was determined not to look at the man standing above them.

Nick opened his eyes groggily. "Cath?"

Catherine looked at him worriedly. "Are you okay?" She asked.

Nick looked bad. "Fabulous." He said in a weak voice.

He still had enough energy to be sarcastic. That was good, Catherine decided. She watched his eyes as he looked around them and saw the man standing above them. "Where are we?" he asked.

Catherine wasn't sure what to say. They'd taken Nick to the warehouse after he was rescued, but she didn't know how to handle it now that he didn't recognize the place. She was almost hoping that the man with the gun would speak, but he didn't. He wasn't even preventing them from speaking. "Nick," Catherine began. "Remember when we took you to that warehouse? After the whole Gordon fiasco?"

She wasn't even sure he was listening to her. He looked like he was in a lot of pain, but she could see his eyes wander behind her before they closed in recognition. Catherine was worried. She wasn't sure what the effect of the memories would be. He didn't say anything for a while, and he kept his eyes closed. She wondered how long he had. He still had a lot of blood to lose, but if he didn't get help soon she was worried that he would bleed out. "Nicky?" She questioned in a gentle voice.

He opened his eyes wearily and closed them again. "So tired…" His voice was barely a whisper and Catherine knew he'd fallen asleep.

* * *

**TBC... **


	12. Chapter 12

**Heres Chappie 12, sorry for the long wait everyone, I was swamped with homework... and busy last night at nine o clock... hee hee... that was a good episode... well, enjoy everyone, I'm off to do chem homework... yippee... Thanks for reading, everybody!**

**Oh, little note about last chapter... I originally wrote the story w/ our suspects using sniper guns, but I realized that wasn't very realistic, so I changed it to an automatic, so you guys might notice a small inconsistency in the following chapters... I changed it it in those, but was too lazy to repost chapter 11 just for one word... **

**Chapter 12**

Greg rarely drove to crime scenes, but they'd decided to take two cars, so he got stuck behind the wheel. He didn't mind as much as he usually did. It gave him something to do with his hands and take his mind off worry for Nick and Catherine. Usually, he didn't like to drive big SUV's like Sara's Tahoe. He always preferred small cars. For some reason, they felt more secure to him. As he drove, he tried to keep his mind on cars. Greg wasn't sure how to act. He was worried, of course, but concern was not one of his usual expressions, so as like last time, he tried to stay occupied. Sara's Tahoe was in good condition like his own, but hers was in good order because she took care of it, whereas Greg rarely drove his. He wasn't that much of a car person. As long as he had some mode of transportation aside from a bus or bicycle, he was happy. Nick was the car person.

Greg looked down at the GPS screen and glanced at Grissom, who was sitting in the passenger seat. He was staring out the window, elbow on the armrest, looking thoughtful and concerned. Greg looked back at the road and followed the police car in front of him on to the mountain road. Something was bothering him about this. Sure, the road was empty, but he felt a tingle of apprehension. It seemed slightly familiar. He shuddered and tried to shake off the feeling, but it stayed at the back of his mind, making him nervous.

Grissom didn't seem to notice anything, and Greg could not see his face. For a moment, he wondered if his boss had fallen asleep. They were getting near to their destination and Greg could see Warrick and Sara in the car behind them. He considered waking Grissom, but at that moment, Grissom sat up and looked at the GPS map. "Nice nap?" Greg questioned, trying to insert a bit of his old lightheartedness.

"I wasn't asleep," Grissom said.

"So you were doing…"

Grissom looked at him. His expression was unreadable. "I was thinking."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Greg asked, remembering his feeling of apprehensive familiarity.

"What?"

"Doesn't this road seem… well, familiar?" Greg asked.

Grissom looked out his window and shrugged. "Vaguely, but that wasn't what I was thinking about."

Greg sighed. Maybe he was going crazy. "What where you thinking then?"

"I was just thinking about what we… you… said back at the lab." Grissom said, staring out the window again. "About them being dead."

Greg looked at his boss, alarmed. "I didn't mean that!" He said quickly. Now that Grissom said it out loud, he realized the weight of his words.

"I know you didn't," Grissom waved a dismissive hand at him. "But what's disturbing me is that they haven't left us a ransom note yet. They would have sent it pretty quickly. They know we're good at our job, and they wouldn't want us to find Nick and Catherine before they got the note to us. I'm thinking they might have lied to Nick and Catherine about holding them for ransom."

Greg looked at him, getting his meaning. "We don't know their intentions yet. They could be dead. They could be still alive. And what's their motive?" Greg wondered alive.

"Do you think they're alive?" Grissom asked.

Greg glanced at his boss. It was both like and unlike Grissom to ask such questions. He thought for a minute. "We don't know yet until we get there." Greg said, doing his best to avoid the question.

Grissom wasn't to be fooled though. "I know we don't know yet, but what do you think?"

Greg didn't know if he wanted to tell Grissom his thoughts. He hesitated for a minute before saying with conviction. "I think they're alive."

Greg watched Grissom's face, trying to pick out emotions. Was it just him, or did Grissom look at him a little pityingly. "You think, or you hope?" Greg didn't answer. The answer was both, but he did have some reason to think so. "Why do you think that Greg?"

Greg simply drove for a minute. "In that phone conversation you had with them." He said slowly. "Well, at the end, we just hear the phone getting squashed." Grissom nodded. "We have no proof that they're dead. No gunshot, no scream to suggest death. We know that he likes to torment his victims. If he was going to kill them, wouldn't he have let us hear it and then crushed the cell?"

This seemed to take a minute to sink in. Grissom looked a little hopeful, but he said. "I hope so, I hope so Greg."

**TBC and Reviewers: You guys rock! You're what keeps me updating this fic!**


	13. Chapter 13

**So I decided to try something different this time and update before I started my homework, so here you go! Reviewers, you guys really do rock! There's something really satisfying about seeing 76 reviews on my stats page...**

**Little note I wanted to make with this: I'm not basing these suspects on any of the episodes because I couldn't think of one that would really fit, so yeah... just had to say that...**

**Chapter 13**

Catherine watched her fellow CSI with frightened concern. She wasn't sure exactly how much blood he'd lost, but his wounds were not scabbing up, probably from his constant movement, and she didn't put it past their captors to have put some substance to stop them from clotting. The huge bruise on his abdomen didn't look good either. She was guessing that he had internal injuries that were probably also bleeding. He was exhausted, that much she could tell. The loss of blood was most likely making him dizzy and fogging his thoughts. Compared to him, she was in good condition; nothing but a scratch on her head.

The man still standing above them posed an ample threat though. Automatics were rare in most cases, but she knew what they were capable of, and there was no underestimating suspects in their job. She recognized his voice of the man who had held Nick at gunpoint back at the Harrison's. He'd talked of a 'boss', so either he was talking about the man who'd held her earlier, or they had another suspect. She sincerely hoped it was the former of the two possibilities. Another suspect would just make things worse, a prospect she didn't care for thinking about. Another thing that made her nervous was his threat earlier. "I won't do anything to you, at least not until the boss gets back." There was no denying it, she was a woman, and he was a rapist. Perhaps they wanted her for other purposes, but she'd seen too many rape victims in her life and the thought of ending up like one of them was enough to set her worrying.

Her captor's grating laugh brought her back from her thoughts. "We can't let him fall asleep now. Not when the boss is due to return." He jabbed the gun into Nick's back, who jerked awake and recoiled, flipping over so that he could see his assailant.

Remembering his threat, Catherine tried to keep the man talking. "Return from what?" She asked.

"I don't recall that being any of your business." The man replied.

"Why shouldn't it be?" Catherine was surprised to hear Nick talking. Perhaps he'd realized the danger she was in and was trying to divert attention from Catherine. Maybe that was the reason for the sudden strength in his voice.

The man looked down at Nick, seeming to understand his intentions. "Playing the hero?" He said. "Hmm… Makes sense for one who always played the victim."

"What?" Catherine heard genuine confusion in Nick's voice.

The man laughed. "Oh, don't toy with me, CSI. Let me see…where to start. Well there was the Nigel Crane incident. I'm sure you'll remember that. It's hard to forget the face of a guy who hid out in your attic and watched you sleep. Oh! And that little burial a while ago."

Nick had fallen silent, and Catherine could not see his face, but thought she had a good idea of his expression. "What else do you know about me?" Nick finally asked, voice shaking.

"I already answered that for you. Everything. We know about Sanders and your other team members also." Catherine saw the man search the room with his eyes as he answered.

"What's so special about Greg?" Nick asked. Catherine wondered at his choice of questions. It seemed like an insignificant matter in their situation, but her CSI instincts told her that he was trying to ask questions that he would answer.

"Special about Greg Sanders?" Despite the mask, Catherine could see a glimmer in the man's eyes and a vaguely intrigued expression. "Aside from the fact that he's the youngest, nothing much." He squatted down next to them, yet still keeping his gun aimed at Nick. "You see, we had it all planned out. You were supposed to be the first, but due to an unfortunate turn in events, that didn't work too well. Willows was next, then Sanders and Brown and Sidle. Grissom was last, but we considered leaving him be and letting him live with the knowledge that he couldn't save the people he loved the most."

This information sent Catherine reeling. Apparently it was doing the same for Nick, for he didn't answer for a moment. She guessed he was taking his time to process the man's words. After at least a minute of silence, he replied. "But why?"

"Because, Stokes, we wanted you to remember us."

The hair on the back of Catherine's neck stood on end at the sound of a second voice. She heard footsteps and rolled over to see, not one, but three new people enter the room, all dressed in black and wearing masks save for one.

**TBC**


	14. Chapter 14

**So I told myself I wouldn't get anywhere near the computer until I finished my homework... you all see how well that worked out, but I figured I'd post chappie 14 since I already broke my little promise to myself. So... enjoy everyone! Hugs and Kisses to all my reviewers!**

**Chapter 14**

The scene looked almost exactly like they expected it to. There was a crushed cell phone on the ground, two spots of blood, presumably where Nick and Catherine lay. Greg watched Grissom take a sample of both spots and stand back to observe. Greg wasn't really paying attention as they assessed the scene and dusted the cell for prints. His mind was elsewhere. There was still that disturbing nag in the back of his mind. He was sure he'd seen this place before. Perhaps it was nothing. Maybe he'd just been driving to one of his crime scenes, but there was something foreboding about this road. The elusive memory seemed dark and forbidding. The morning sunlight was harsh, he decided. It was mocking them, reminding them of better days when they weren't investigating the disappearance of one of their own. That thought seemed to ring a bell, but after thinking for a minute, Greg dismissed it as useless hoping.

"GREG!"

Greg jumped and looked back at his co-workers who were all staring at him. "Sorry," He mumbled and went to get his kit. Why didn't any of them feel it?

"We've got a few prints on the phone. They're probably Nick and Catherine." Sara said, holding up lifted prints and looking at them closely.

Grissom was pointing at the ground where there were two gouges in the gravel. "This was probably where the car took off. And there are drag marks leading up to the back of the tire marks. I'm guessing that's where they dragged Nick and Catherine back into the car."

Warrick and Sara nodded, but their talking was giving Greg a headache. He rubbed his forehead, looking back at the road. Brass was standing next to one of the police cars, watching the CSI's work.

"Hey Greggo, you okay?" This was Warrick, and Greg looked up at him.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Warrick, Sara and Grissom looked at him disbelievingly. He must be going insane, Greg decided. What was wrong with him? Shaking his head slightly, he forced himself to deal with the situation at hand. The others were still watching him. "I'm fine." He repeated.

They slowly returned to their old conversation. Greg still couldn't focus on it. He was next, according to Nick and Catherine's kidnappers. They'd explicitly said that they were going to kill Nick and Catherine. If so, then why hadn't they done it yet? It seemed they weren't going to hold them for ransom. What were they doing then? Were they delaying the CSIs' deaths just to taunt them, or was there some deeper meaning to what they were doing? More than likely, they were doing this for revenge. Something was not right about this. Something aside from the fact that two CSIs were missing. The kidnappers' actions didn't make sense. They could have killed the two at the scene, and they'd proved already that they could kill without being caught. As far as Greg knew, they hadn't killed the two CSIs when they'd pulled over either. Why were they still alive? It was a strange question to ask about his friends, but if they were still alive, then the answer to that question would help them find the two missing CSIs.

He tried to think in Grissom's point of view. His supervisor always said it was essential to understand the suspects before anything else. Greg knew these guys liked to taunt their victims. Perhaps that was the reason Nick and Catherine were still alive. The kidnappers were trying to keep them alive so they could continue their verbal and physical torment. They probably wanted to make a statement with their captives' deaths, but what statement did they want to make and how were they going to make it? They knew that the kidnappers were somehow connected with Nick's previous kidnapping and burial. Was this something to do with that? Did they bury them? The thought sent shivers down his spine. He remembered Gordon and the warehouse he blew himself up in. _Wait…The warehouse. _He looked back at the road and stood up from his kneeling position, revelation dawning on him. _This road…_He suddenly remembered what it led to. The knowledge was staggering. Where else would they be?

"Guys…" he said almost in a whisper. He was staring down the road in the direction of the warehouse.

Everybody looked at him. Warrick was the first to speak. "Greg?"

He looked back at them with a sudden feverish excitement, adrenaline rushing through his veins. "This road!" He said. "It goes to that warehouse! The place where Gordon died."

The three CSIs looked at him speechless for a minute before Grissom spoke. Greg couldn't read his expression or quiet understand what Grissom was really thinking behind his words, but his answer was satisfying. "It's a good hunch." Greg could tell that his boss was trying to keep his words level and calm. "Greg and Warrick, go ahead with a squad car." He nodded at Brass. "Sara and I will catch up when we're done processing this scene.

Warrick was already behind the wheel waiting impatiently for Greg, who hopped in, barely making it before Warrick peeled away. Greg looked at his co-worker, a little alarmed. He'd never seen Warrick drive like this and was a little surprised, despite the fact that they were going way too fast, he had the SUV under perfect control. It took him a minute to remember to buckle himself in, but that done, he turned to look at Warrick. If there was one word to describe his friend's expression, it was pissed. And worried. That was too be expected though. "Rick?" He said in a small voice.

They'd left the squad car in the dust long before so there were no noisy sirens or distracting lights to disturb them. Warrick took his eyes off the road long enough to spare a glance for Greg. "I knew there was something about this place, damn it!" he said angrily.

Greg wasn't sure what to say. "So did I, but Grissom brushed it off. I didn't realize where we were until…" He trailed off as Warrick's phone went off.

Warrick glanced down at it. Greg could see him trying to get his feelings under control. "Can you get that for me? I haven't driven like this in a while."

Greg looked at the screen and flipped the phone open. He was greeted by Brass' angry voice. "What the hell do you think you're doing! Slow down! I don't have radar with me, but you're definitely pushing the speed limit!"

"Uh… I'll tell him." Greg said when he could think of nothing else.

"Greg? Oh." There was a pause. "Well the last thing we want is for you two to crash."

"He looks like he's got it under control." Greg said weakly, looking at the speedometer.

"I don't care if Warrick is a former NASCAR driver! Don't do anything stupid when you get there either!" Greg heard Brass hang up and turned to Warrick.

"What does he want?" Warrick asked in a rough voice.

"For you to slow down. I must say, I'd appreciate it too." Greg replied.

Warrick wasn't listening, but squinting ahead, so Greg gave up. "Why didn't you guys recognize this place?" He questioned, not wanting to distract Warrick from his driving, but wanting to know the answer.

Warrick shrugged. "I wasn't watching the road that day. I was thinking about Nick."

Greg nodded. That made sense. All of them had other things on their minds. Warrick was slowing down, and Greg could see the warehouse in front of them. He prepared himself to keep Warrick in the car. He wanted very much to go after Nick and Catherine, but barging into an unknown territory with no idea of the circumstances was possibly the most "stupid" thing to do. Just as he expected, Warrick unbuckled himself and made to get out as soon as the car was stopped. "Rick!" Greg said. "We can't just go barging in there with no back-up."

Warrick looked at him once. No words were needed to be exchanged. There was no way that Greg was going to keep him there. A moment later, Warrick was gone, and Greg could see him running towards the warehouse, gun drawn and pointed at the ground. Taking a deep breath, Greg followed him.

**TBC...**

**P.S Fannysmackin' was sooo sad! Poor greggo... sniffles**


	15. Chapter 15

**Well, I wanted to make that little note again w/ this chapter, and that is: I'm not basing this off any of the specific episodes... so... yeah... Anyways, I thought I'd update before I started my homework... again... but that means I have to deprive myself of the computer for an hour or two because if not, I'll get all caught up in 1) Reading fanfictions 2)Writing fanfictions (see below) or 3) a combination of the two (Don't ask how that works.. because I don't know...)**

**Chapter 15**

The arrival of three new people was an unwelcome surprise. Nick started to feel dizzy again. The loss of blood was catching up with him. He tried to control his breathing and inhaled deeply to slow his blood pressure. The feeling in his arms and hands had disappeared all together, but the rest of his body ached and stung, especially the cuts on his back. He had a vague idea that they put something on them to irritate them, or stop them from clotting.

He looked up at the three new arrivals. Only one was not wearing a mask, but Nick didn't recognize him, however, he committed the guy to memory so he could describe him if by any chance they got out of this alive. He did not have a gun, but the two standing behind him did.The mask-less man did not seem to mind this, and simply surveyed them for a moment. Both of the men behind him stood awkwardly, pointing their guns at either CSI, but Nick didn't like the look of them, even without seeing their faces. All three armed men were muscular, tall and imposing, and he felt very vulnerable in his position.

Finally, the mask-less man spoke. "What? No amazed look of recognition? No sudden intake of breath at such a familiar face?" Blank though his expression might be, the man could not keep anger out of his voice. Nick heard it plainly and silently wondered if he could use it to his advantage.

"Do I know you?" Nick asked in a slightly impertinent tone. He meant to divert their attention from Catherine, knowing what they were capable of.

The man's lip curled in a sneer. "Oh, I know, you meet too many people a day to remember their faces." Nick didn't answer. "Do you remember the faces of those you arrest?"

"We don't make arrests," Nick said the first thing that came to his mind. _As long as the guy's eyes stay off Catherine, _He thought.

The man looked at him shrewdly as if trying to decide what to do. Nick held his gaze, ignoring the pain in the rest of his body. "No? But how many times do you build evidence against the wrong person?" The man said.

His words sent a chill down Nick's spine. They had to do their job without thinking about such situations, but Nick thought about them anyways. Every time they arrested someone, that notion always ran through his mind and he shook it off, reminding himself that the evidence spoke for itself. Realizing that this was what his kidnapper wanted him to be thinking, he replied as callously as he could. "We try to keep such times to a minimum." This wasn't a good time to be throwing back smart answers, but Nick wanted to keep him talking. He needed energy for that though, and the small burst of adrenaline he'd received when the three new people had walked in was quickly wearing off.

His statement had angered the man even more, and he struck out at Nick with a boot. Once again, he tried to curl in on himself, his already bruised stomach burning with a refreshed wave of pain. The man sunk to a squat so that Nick was looking straight in his face. "Well, if there's so few times, then perhaps Paul Ferguson rings a bell?" The three other men shifted and Nick glanced at the two he could see before returning his eyes to the man's face.

The name Paul Ferguson rang no bell, but Nick didn't remember names as well as he could. He wondered how old the case was and if it was even a case. If it was, then the men around him were probably all enraged family or friends. "No?" The man in front of him said. "Well I remember seeing you at our door, and your boss, Gil Grissom."

Nick didn't remember. He could barely focus, for his concentration was wavering and his stomach felt like a truck had run it over. Also, the sensation of lying in his own blood was unnerving him. "I wonder how long it will take them to find you guys." The man continued talking.

Nick wasn't really aware of what he was saying, but he was thinking along the same lines. He knew that Grissom would have had their phone conversation tracked, but he didn't know if they could find anything from it aside from the little piece of road they'd lost contact on.

"Will they think to look here?"

His voice was starting to fade, and Nick barely perceived his taunting drawl. He vaguely heard something outside, and did the man with the gun move or was it a trick of his progressively blurry vision?

The feeling of another foot in his stomach jerked him out of being on the brink of unconsciousness. He could definitely hear a car outside, and judging by his captors' reactions, it wasn't someone expected. His heart leapt with hope, and sank when he realized his captors would probably kill them before they could be rescued.

It seemed his captors had other plans though. It was the last thing Nick expected too. He and Catherine suddenly found themselves alone as the four kidnappers dispersed at an order from the mask-less one. This struck Nick as ominous though, and he remembered the guns they had.

"Nick!" He flipped over and saw Warrick and Greg come in. His heart leapt and sank once more.

**TBC...**

**Reviewers: Keep up the good work, you make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! No really, I was having the crappiest day and when I saw that there were reviews it made me really happy!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Okay, so this is the fourth to last chapter... three to go. I'm actually going to have time to write this other fic I wanted to write tonight! Yay! that is... after I finish my homework... and tomorows homework so that I can watch CSI tomorow night... and my costume... I'll get started on it eventually. So everyone... enjoy, and Reviewers: You're all still my heros! ( I think that makes sense...)**

**Chapter 16**

It was a stupid thing to do; he knew that. However, it dawned on him that if Nick and Catherine were still alive they didn't have much longer if the kidnappers heard them pull up, so ignoring Greg's protests, he went in. He felt mildly guilty for pulling Greg in with him; he hadn't meant to endanger more people, but Nick and Catherine's lives hung by a thread and he wasn't going to let that thread break if it hadn't already.

He took a deep breath as he pressed himself against the wall outside the warehouse. He couldn't hear anything from inside, but that didn't mean anything. What he didn't want was two kidnappers shoving a gun in their face the moment they walked in.

There was nothing for it; it was now or never. Holding his breath, he swung into the room, aiming his gun at anything that moved. The first thing that he saw was Nick and Catherine on the ground. "Nick!" He said. He could feel Greg close behind him as he surveyed the room for other occupants. There were none, so he hurried to Nick's side.

The two captive CSI's were saying something, but Warrick didn't hear it. Catherine looked shaken and there was a cut on her head, but Nick was a different case. He didn't look good at all and Warrick didn't like the fact that he was laying in a pool of what looked like his own blood. Anger flared inside him, and he glanced up once more, looking for hidden shooters and not finding any. Greg had knelt down beside him, looking almost as shaken as Catherine. "Rick…" Nick said.

"Warrick! Get out of here!" Catherine's voice was stronger, and it permeated the blanket of silence that seemed to surround Warrick. He wasn't about to leave them there.

"I'm not leaving you," He said, examining Nick's hands which were secured with zip ties.

"Rick…" It was Greg this time, but Warrick ignored him and dug in his pocket for his pocket knife.

Catherine was almost yelling in desperation. "Warrick, get out of here now! They're hiding!"

The words barely registered as he cut his two friends free. It was then that he heard the first shot. A moment later, the place was raining with bullets. "Shit!" He yelled, yanking Catherine to her feet and propelling her towards the door. Nick was somehow managing to get up on his own, and Warrick felt his flak jacket stop two bullets. Greg wasn't so lucky though, and they heard him yell a moment later.

Adrenaline was keeping him alive. He felt a sudden surge of strength as soon as he was cut free, and pushed himself up, ignoring the stinging pain. The moment he was upright, he glanced around, despite the bullets singing through the air around them.

It seemed that Nick and Catherine weren't the kidnappers' targets, for few bullets were coming his way, and Catherine had gotten out already. Nick saw two bullets hit Warrick and stop when they met his jacket, but one went straight into Greg's shoulder.

Nick yelled almost at the same time as Greg's cry of pain. "Run!" His voice was amazingly strong, and although he'd lost too much blood already, he could move himself. Warrick heeded Nick's cry and ran, shooting back in the general direction the bullets were coming from, but Greg looked as if he were in shock.

He ran at Greg and caught him around the shoulders, somehow pulling him towards the door. After a moment, not half a second, he felt Greg start to move of his own accord and he let go. Thankfully, the door was straight ahead and almost the moment he was outside, his strength gave way and he collapsed.

He was frozen to one spot; the pain in his arm somehow cut off the connection to his brain that sent the message that he was in a warehouse that was raining bullets. He vaguely remembered Nick and Warrick telling him about some case in a warehouse that involved some stupid teenagers pulling stunts with an automatic. Something told him this was different though; there was no sign of a bamboo pole anywhere. His arm was starting to go mercifully numb, but it was short lived, for a moment later, he felt something hit him on the shoulders and felt himself being dragged towards the door.

The pain returned in an intense moment, and he was suddenly aware of the bullets flying again. He started to run by himself, not taking a moment to marvel at how Nick got the strength to do such a thing. Panic was close at hand; the door seemed so far away event though it wasn't. It seemed to take ages to get there, though.

Nick barely made it through before him, and Greg got there just in time to catch him as he collapsed. Greg gasped as the added weight jarred his shoulder and almost dropped Nick, but Warrick was suddenly hurrying them out of the doorway as Brass and his team rushed inside.

Everything after that happened in a blur. He saw Nick being hurried to an ambulance, Warrick running alongside the stretcher. Somebody threw their arms around him, but he couldn't see their face, and Grissom was examining his arm and calling for something. Catherine was standing nearby looking dazed and Greg wondered if he looked similar. A strange sort of apathy had come over him. It was over, that was all that mattered. He didn't care if his arm was looked after or not, he didn't care that he was being hurried to the same ambulance as Nick. Faces passed and he couldn't recognize them and voices sounded but he didn't hear them. He barely felt someone help him into a chair, and he barely noticed the car start. The black when he closed his eyes was bliss.

**TBC...**


	17. Chapter 17

**Well here we go with the third to last chapter... sorry if this one is kinda boring... I just wanted a little something before I wrapped it all up. So I started my new fanfic last night! It made me really happy (just like your reviews), but I should get that one posted soon, its only three chapters and I've got one third written... so... yeah... **

**Reviewers, you rock! (Still)**

**Chapter 17**

The hospital had long since become a dreary place for all of them, and Nick had developed a strange hate for plain white walls, papery sheets and sterile smelling bathrooms. Often, he would get up and sneak out of his room to walk around, wishing somehow that he could get out. The doctors saw this and ushered him back to his room where he was once again confined to bed.

It was like a prison, he decided one evening when he was laying and staring up at the ceiling. He thought he'd be free of hospitals forever when he'd gotten out after his previous kidnapping. It seemed he wasn't. There was little to do that he was interested in, so he found himself reading and sleeping a lot. He wished the team would give him something to do, but the doctors always squashed those ideas. He wasn't quite sure how long he'd been there. After the first week, he'd lost count and now he was just letting the days pass slowly.

He knew Greg had felt the same way. The bullet had broken and artery or two on its way in and hadn't come out the other side, so he'd also lost quite a lot of blood and had to go in for surgery. Afterwards, he'd reacted to the painkillers they gave him and was consequently forced to stay there longer. Nick had been able to talk with him when he was in the hospital, and that had made the time pass a little faster, but as he was released two days ago, Nick was alone again, and bored.

The team visited every day or so, but only for a while at a time, and wouldn't speak to him of work. He had a feeling Ecklie was giving them problems, though about what, he had no idea. They also refused to say anything about the kidnapping case, but he got the feeling that Catherine didn't know much either. Part of him wanted to know what had happened, but part the sensitive part of him wanted to keep it unknown. He'd speculated about that night often enough, and he tried to keep his speculations hopeful, but the team seemed slightly disappointed. More often than not, he thought about what would happen if all the suspects died in the shoot-out when they were rescued. He wasn't sure what to think and he wasn't sure if he wanted to think about it either. The thought that his captors would escape punishment, even in death bothered him. It was the same way his Gordon case ended up. Part of him wanted to save others from suffering, even if they'd been the reason for his own suffering, but part of him wanted to look them in the eye as they were marched away in handcuffs. His job was to do both.

A couple times, he wondered if he could have been out of the hospital faster if he'd taken some care of himself through the whole kidnapping. His constant forced movement had kept the wounds open and he'd earned himself one too many kicks to the stomache. The doctors never told him the extent of his injuries, but the team had filled in a couple of the gaps he couldn't decide for himself. Among those were blood loss, broken ribs, internal injuries and bleeding, the effects of the poison they put on his cuts and, he had no idea how it happened, but a broken wrist.

Catherine visited him considerably more than the others, once, bringing Lindsey along with her. The first time she'd come by herself, she did nothing but apologize profusely and with many shed tears until he asked her what she was saying sorry for. She maintained that he didn't have to distract them for her in the warehouse and it was her fault that he did. Nick had watched her throughout her explanation, head cocked sideways, and the moment she was done, he insured her that it was nothing to be sorry for and that she was being stupid.

He knew it wasn't the end of that conversation, but she did leave the hospital looking minimally comforted. Warrick was another one of his constant visitors and stayed with him longer than the others did. Nick found his visits refreshing. Warrick seldom mentioned either kidnapping, kept pity out of his voice and treated Nick like he always did. They would sit and talk about sports, laugh about T.V shows they both liked to watch and on occasion, play video games when Warrick brought his Play station 2 along. Once, Warrick even spent the night in the hospital, sleeping on the chair put in Nick's room for visitors.

Almost three weeks after he'd been hospitalized, the doctor came in and told him he could be released in two days. This news put Nick in high spirits, and he didn't even mind the doctor's command to take it easy for a week. He rarely listened to doctor's orders anyways. The fresh air almost brought tears to his eyes.

Warrick offered to let Nick stay at his house for a while, but he refused and waved goodbye to his team when they dropped him off at home. He'd considered going back to the lab with them, but he had a strange longing to see his house again and collapse on the bed to sleep.

The inside was dark, and it was soothing in itself. There was always some sort of light on in the hospital, some sort of bright, white light. He hated them now, and welcomed the dark room. His house was just as he remembered it, except that there was a big pile of mail on his kitchen table. Warrick must have gotten the mail for him while he was in the hospital. He would go through it later. At the moment, he was exhausted and needed sleep, so he wandered to his bedroom and collapsed on his bed, grateful for the familiar feel of his mattress. It was good to be home.

**TBC...**


	18. Chapter 18

**Here you go guys... second to last chapter, and you'll finally figure out what its all about. So is being wierd and I'm not getting your reviews in my inbox, but i'm checking them online so its all good... anyways, enough of me rambling... Thank you to all my reviewers! you guys Rock, as usual!**

**Chapter 17**

He heard him come in but didn't feel like looking up. Even when he said something, Grissom didn't look up. The benefit of being partially deaf was that if you didn't want to acknowledge someone's presence, you had a viable excuse for it. That method was blown when Warrick dropped a file on his desk though. Sighing, Grissom looked up, not reading the label on the manila folder.

"Hi Warrick," he said, trying to keep annoyance out of his expression. Warrick looked mad.

"That guy, Paul Ferguson. Sara and I went to his house. Look what we found." He said, motioning towards the file as he sat down.

Grissom looked at him shrewdly before glancing down at the folder. It was labeled 'Willows, Catherine'. _That's odd_, he thought as he opened it gingerly after pulling on latex gloves. The first couple pages were printed and the rest of the contents were a spiral notebook and a couple photos. Grissom frowned as he read over the printed pages. It looked like a photo copy of Catherine's personal file, complete with picture, birth-date, phone number, address, finger print and various other things taken when a person applied for CSI. He flipped to the pictures in the back. There was one of her, Lindsey, their house, even the different rooms. With increasing apprehension and repulsion, he opened the spiral notebook. In it were handwritten lists of stores she frequented, her daily schedule, Lindsey's teachers, Catherine's friends, co-workers and other personal information. Horrified, he looked up at Warrick.

"We found five other files like that. You, me, Nick, Sara and Greg." Warrick supplied, looking furious. "There were even two smaller ones: Brass and Robbins."  
"They've been watching us?" Grissom asked, horrified.

"And they have access to our personal files." Warrick said.

Grissom thought for a minute before saying. "All you need to access those is the right I.D."

He saw Warrick look down for a moment. "Hang on." He said. "We found a fake I.D. in Brass' folder."

"Print it," Grissom said automatically.

"Already did. Nobody's but Paul Ferguson." Warrick replied.

"Does Jim know him?"

"Don't think so, but we checked the sign in at the front desk and a Paul Ferguson signed in twice a couple months ago for a meeting with Brass. We asked Brass about it, he said he didn't really remember it but it had something to do with that age-old Ferguson case." Warrick said.

"Why don't any of us remember that?" Grissom asked.

Warrick shrugged. "Not sure, might be because it wasn't a very high profile case. I looked it up. You, Nick and I were working on it. Guy named Lenny Richards died and we arrested a Jane Ferguson because we found her prints all over the gun and GSR all over her sweater. She died in jail, and according to Nick, Ferguson said something about arresting the wrong people when they were in that warehouse. The gun was registered to Paul Ferguson, and that sweater could have easily fitted him. When we interviewed Jane Ferguson, she said she'd been at the shooting range with that gun and she couldn't remember if she was wearing the sweater or not. Pretty circumstantial evidence, but the jury found her guilty."

"And who were the other two? The ones that didn't die at the warehouse?" Grissom questioned.

"Peter Tarrif and Colten Richards." Warrick replied. "Peter Tarrif was Jane's fiancé and Colten Richards was a friend of hers."

"They went through a lot of trouble for this. Why target all of us?" Grissom asked.

Warrick shook his head, scowling. "They did have an elaborate plot. Colten Richards told us that Paul was the one who killed Lenny Richards. Apparently, Colten and Lenny weren't the best of brothers. Lenny Richards was gay, so it was a hate-crime. According to Colten, Paul was so mad he almost wanted to get caught, but when we accused his sister, it made him really really angry. He blamed us for this, and Peter Tarrif said something about you and Nick refusing to speak with him again about the case."

Grissom looked at him for a minute. "Why did Paul kill him again? Were they radical Christians or something?"

Warrick nodded. "Yeah, but it gets better. Paul and Lenny used to be friends and Colten told us they got drunk one night and slept together. Paul woke up with a killer hangover and a newfound death wish for Lenny. This was all about revenge. Paul was the leader of their little group, but all of them were furious at us for building a case against his sister, and her consequent death in jail. It's all revenge."

Grissom sighed. "It's the Gordon case all over again." He and Warrick looked at each other for a long moment. "So that's it I guess." Grissom said finally. "Case closed."

Warrick nodded. "We need to tell Nick and Catherine sometime. They've been pestering me ever since Nick got out of the hospital."

Grissom looked away and nodded. "I guess we do."

**TBC...**

**Sorry if it was a bit confusing... message me if you want me to lay it out for you better... **


	19. Chapter 19

**I'm kinda sad now that its over, but I hope you all like the last chapter. I couldn't really decide how to end it, so I just took a fic I never decided to post and edited it to fit this one... Reviewers, you guys were awesome throughout this fic! I really appreciate seeing the reviews you left me! Well, I'll stop talking so that you can read the chapter...**

**Chapter 19**

Nick enjoyed being back in his usual routine very much. The news of the outcome of his and Catherine's kidnapping was satisfying and Nick learned quickly not to think about it too much. Two people had died in the warehouse, identified as a Paul Ferguson and Mark Ferguson, both the older brothers of Jane Ferguson. The other two kidnappers: Peter Tarrif and Colten Richards were arrested after their buddies had died. It was good to have some closure.

"Coffee?" Warrick asked from the break room table.

Nick looked up at his friend and nodded. "Yeah, is there any left?"

Warrick grinned. "Why would I be asking?"

They heard Greg snicker from the couch and Nick looked around at him. "Hey, don't push it Greggo. I'm gonna find your Blue Hawaiian stash someday."

"No you won't. It's well hidden." He replied.

"Hey, we're CSIs" Warrick said. "We can find anything."

"Unfortunately, I'm a CSI too. I know how to hide things." Greg said.

"Sure you do," Catherine walked in. "The question is whether or not you know how to hide things well."

Greg didn't look fazed. "Have you found it yet?" he asked. They didn't reply. "I thought so."

"You thought wrong," Everyone looked up to see Grissom walk in with a bag of coffee in his hand.

Greg leapt to his feet and snatched the bag away from his supervisor. "Who told you to go snooping around my um… office?" He hugged the bag to his chest.

Sara laughed as she walked in. "The smell of a fresh pot of coffee." She handed a Styrofoam cup of coffee to Grissom who toasted Greg before taking a sip.

The others laughed and Greg sat back down on the couch nursing his bag of coffee. Nick grinned to himself. "So am I to believe there is a fresh pot of Blue Hawaiian in your… office?"

Greg scowled and left with his bag of coffee heading towards his office. Warrick, Catherine and Sara followed looking eager for gourmet coffee. Nick laughed along with Grissom and stood up, looking after them. It was times like this that he remembered the beauty of life. Grissom looked at him with a knowing smile. "Don't take it with you Nicky," He said, following the other four out of the break room.

Nick watched him go, the echo of his own words making him smile. He hadn't done it last time, and he had no intention to.

**The End! Thank you all for reading and for reviewing! You guys were awesome, I'll be back... soon... I hope with another fic... So, until we meet again guys! Once again, big thank you to everyone for reading!**


End file.
